


Breathe Between Heartbeats

by SkysongMA



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Hermann is incapable of talking about feelings, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Vanessa is a prosthetics model and a BAMF, emotionally constipated Germans, eventual polyamory, lots of relationship negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 58,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkysongMA/pseuds/SkysongMA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Newton Geiszler, Hermann realized he knew three things.</p><p>First, Newton Geiszler was a complete and unmitigated ass. </p><p>Second, he was also a genius, though he was terrible at expressing it in a way that made sense to anyone else.</p><p>Third, Hermann wanted to lick the tattoo that snaked along the side of his neck. Possibly bite it. </p><p>After meeting Vanessa Barsetti, Hermann realized he knew nothing at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salamanders and Scathing Wit

**Author's Note:**

> This is a threesome fic, though the majority of the story lies in the interaction between Hermann and Newt. I ship them like I breathe. I just want Vanessa to be awesome and included.
> 
> I gave Newt a non-canonical tattoo because it just kind of stuck from an AU that I'm writing. 
> 
> There will be all kinds of smut eventually. I'm excited. Also lots of goofiness.

Hermann Gottlieb met Newton Geiszler when he was twenty-six, a year after graduating from the Jaeger Academy and six months after the accident that turned his leg into mostly useless meat. He had been briefed on the new kaiju scientist: second-youngest attendant of MIT; brilliant engineer and biologist; “eccentric.”

 

That didn’t even begin to cover it.

 

Newt only had one tattoo at the time: a flaming salamander that snaked down his neck and disappeared under his shirt. He had not yet developed a love of skinny ties, but his pants were already too tight.

 

Hermann came away with three dominant impressions.

 

First, Newton Geiszler was a complete and unmitigated ass.

 

Second, he was also a genius, though he was terrible at expressing it in a way that made sense to anyone else.

 

Third, Hermann wanted to lick that tattoo. Maybe bite it. The desire had been so strong that he’d had to start thinking of the Jaeger code instead of listening to Newt talk because the movement of Newt’s neck as he spoke made the salamander flex and stretch ever so slightly.

 

When Newt finished speaking, Hermann told him he sounded like an idiot, and even managed to come up with reasons why. It only went downhill from there.

 

***

 

Newt drifted in and out of Hermann’s life like a leaf carried by the wind. Both of them shuffled between Shatterdomes—Hermann consulted on improvements to the Jaeger code, and Newt followed the kaiju.

 

They spent every moment in each other’s company engaged in what his colleagues referred to as “dick-measuring contests at ear-splitting levels.” Hermann didn’t give a damn what his competitors thought, but he worried that it affected the top brass’s view of him, and it kept him up at night.

 

That and the constant thought that Newt was handsome and a genius and if only he wasn’t such a giant—to borrow his phrasing— _dickwad_ —

 

Every time they ran into each other, it was just as bad. Usually worse.

 

***

 

Shatterdomes usually had only one lab devoted to pure, theoretical research—practical applications were more important than explanations why they worked. Hermann was all right with that. He got to work alone.

 

Except when Newt showed up. K-science was more about Jaeger tech than kaiju guts, since, as Hermann always explained, sane people were not interested in sticking their head in the mouth of a giant monster. Therefore, Newt had to find his own space, and it was always _Hermann’s_.

 

Hermann set things up the way he liked them—electric kettle for tea in the corner, blackboards just so, computer where it wouldn’t distract him, everything arranged so he would have nothing to trip over if the power went out and he had to fumble around in the dark. (This had never happened at the Shatterdome, but it had happened the one time he went to visit his parents in Berlin, and he was never doing that again.)

 

Then, at some point, Newt stumbled in with his equipment and his _specimens_ , and he fucked everything up.

 

Hermann made this clear to him God knew how many times. He would find embalming fluid on his notes. Work erased by splatter marks. Once he made the mistake of leaving a sweater in the lab and came back the next morning to find it had been eaten away by kaiju stomach acid.

 

(Newt apologized for that, but Hermann refused to listen. He loved that sweater. And Newt had to go and point out that Hermann owned three just like it, and why did he know how many sweaters Hermann owned?)

 

***

 

The morning Newt was due to arrive, Hermann walked around his lab, feeling the quiet, the peace that came only from knowing where everything was because he had put it there.

 

But… it was rather large. There was space for two people here. It just had to be the right kind of space.

 

It took measuring tape and a piece of chalk taped to the end of his cane, but he found the exact center of the room and drew a straight line down the center.

 

When Newt arrived—busting in the door like it was a pub instead of a laboratory—he stared at the line for a full thirty seconds. “What… the fuck.”

 

Hermann turned, leaning on his cane and wearing the expression Newt had once described as _like looking at a turtle’s asshole_. “There is enough space here for the two of us, if we share it right.”

 

“And… this is right.” Newt looked at the blank half of the room, cradling a specimen jar against his chest.

 

“I am _tired_ , Dr. Geiszler, of seeing my work destroyed. And I am sure you are tired of being reprimanded for destroying it. So. A compromise. You stay over there. I stay over here. We can both get work done, and everyone is happy.”

 

Newt frowned. “First of all, I know for a fact that you are never happy. It’s in the _Encyclopedia Britannica,_ I looked it up.”

 

“If you’re going to insult me, at least make up new material, Dr. Geiszler.”

 

“It’s early, man. I’ll make it up to you later.” He stepped into the room, keeping his feet along the line. “Second, what happens if I cross over to your side?”

 

Hermann looked down at his cane, at his ruined leg. “The problem with deciding I was tired of surgeries, Dr. Geiszler, is that my femur has never set right. I will never walk properly without assistance. I can also never walk through a metal detector again, but that’s a different story.” He looked at Newt, his eyes even and cold. “If you come over to my side and ruin my work, then I might have to go over to your side and yell at you, and I don’t know your side as well as mine. There could be imperfections in the floor. It would be so easy for me to trip.”

 

Newt’s eyes widened behind his glasses; he clutched the jar as though it contained his mother’s brain. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“Glass is very fragile, Dr. Geiszler—even the kind they use to make specimen jars. Think it over before you decide to irritate me.”

 

Newt swallowed. Then, with his chin in the air as though it were his idea, he set his specimen jar down on the opposite side and went back for a cartload more.

 

Once he had brought all his things inside, Hermann nodded at a table that straddled the line. “You can have that, too. It’s just difficult for me to do any heavy lifting.”

 

“Hmmph,” muttered Newt. “Like I want anything that’s been on your stupid side.” But he took the table.

 

***

 

Newt wasn’t an asshole because he talked too much or because he interrupted _everyone_ or because he couldn’t hold on to a thought for more than half a second.

 

Newt was an asshole because he could be _nice._

 

Newt got up late and went to bed later. Hermann was the opposite. He got in to the lab a few hours after Newt left—and there was always a thermos of tea sitting on his side of the lab. Always. Just where he would see it, and just where he could pick it up as he walked to the chalkboard and inspected yesterday’s work.

 

Hermann tried not to think about it too much—but there were other things. He often fell asleep in the lab, a consequence of a brain that never shut off confined in a body that couldn’t stay awake past ten PM. He would inevitably wake up stiff and aching—and with a blanket over his knees and his painkillers in his lap. Sometimes even a glass of water. With lemon.

 

Where did he even _get_ the lemon?

 

***

 

Newt was also an asshole because he couldn’t seem to take care of himself. He was thinner every time he showed up, and he stayed up too late to be healthy. He drank coffee and Mountain Dew like water, and if he ate anything at all, it was Hot Pockets.

 

Hermann wanted to ignore this. Really, he did. His thoughts about Newton Geiszler were not good for him; they would get him in trouble one day. It simply would not work out.

 

But if he was going to lunch, it only made sense to drag Newt along with him, didn’t it? And he nagged everyone to eat their vegetables, not just Newt.

 

Maybe he made sure Newt slept sometimes, too. His leg often woke him, and stretching and walking helped ease the pain. If he caught Newt in the lab at three in the morning, it only made sense to harangue him about sleep psychosis.

 

And maybe if Newt was asleep in the corner—he never slept on the couch; he curled up on top of his lab notes like a rat making a nest—Hermann would wake him. Or at least cover him with his jacket, maybe tuck the threadbare throw pillow under his head.

 

It was only fair.

 

***

 

There was still the matter of the tattoo. Newt picked up more of them—usually when he and Hermann were working on different sides of the globe. Hermann thought the kaiju theme was tasteless, but he couldn’t deny the artistry. Nor could he keep himself from staring at the way the designs continued all the way underneath Newt’s clothes.

 

How far down did they go? How loud would Newt yell if you bit them? Especially a raw tattoo. It had to hurt.

 

Would it bleed?

 

That was where Hermann’s mind went when he wasn’t thinking about physics or coding or engineering. And Newt had the gall to ask him why he never talked about anything but math.


	2. Zebra Cones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t care for spirits,” said Hermann, but he took a drink of the beer anyway. He hadn’t had any since graduate school; it brought back a wealth of memories he’d thought long buried. Of a life lived without the long shadow of the kaiju.
> 
> Could it really ever be like that again?
> 
> He looked at the faded salamander on Newt’s neck.
> 
> Yes. Maybe yes. He poured the beer for Newt.

As pilot jargon and kaiju codenames became household words, it was easy to believe things might get better.

 

Nothing was perfect. Herman cried himself to sleep the first time they tried to bomb the Breach shut—embarrassing, but it was the first time numbers ever betrayed him. He felt like a jilted lover.

 

Yet, even with that hanging over his head, everything was easier. They were holding their own. People were smiling again. The lab seemed brighter and airier. Newt’s science puns actually seemed funny; his emo rock sounded like music instead of noise.

 

At some point during that beautiful lull, they finished a report they were collaborating on, a collection of data on Category 3 kaiju and nervous predictions about Category 4’s.

 

“D’you wanna take it to the Marshal, or should I?” said Newt, riffling the pages of the printed report.

 

Hermann shook his head. “You go. I’ll clean up in here.”

 

Newt snorted. “Come on, man, you do that every time. Why don’t you come out with me for once?”

 

Hermann stared at him. His mind had already moved ahead, to the work he could get done in Newton’s absence. Now it fixed on the beat of Newton’s pulse in his left wrist, providing Yamarashi’s heartbeat.

 

Hermann couldn’t think of anything to say, and that seemed to be what Newton wanted. He grinned in a way that could only be described as wicked. “Come on. There’s a great band playing tonight—I’ve Got the Kaiju Blues. How can you go wrong with a name like that?”

 

There were plenty of ways, and Hermann said them, but Newt ignored them the way he ignored demands to turn down his music or to put his shirt back on when the lab was hot.

 

***

 

It was the first time Hermann had been out in an informal setting since—forever, it felt like. He must have done ordinary things at some point, but he couldn’t remember them. His whole life was numbers, and kaiju, and the PPDC.

 

Hermann had expected some loud, noisy affair—beer in red cups, trashy tattoos, the bass cranked up too loud and broken fog machines. Somewhere he’d be forced to stand up for so long he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow morning, where everyone would have to shout at each other for even the most basic requests.

 

But, to his surprise, it was a sit-down setting. They found a table by the stage. “I’m gonna get a beer.” Newt was shouting a little, but he always shouted a little. “You want one?”

 

Hermann shook his head, and he watched Newt drift off to the back, toward the bar. He was wearing a Tacit Ronin t-shirt. Hermann knew he was staring; he also knew he couldn’t stop.

 

Newt did return with a red cup, but it was empty, and they both knew it was a wise choice. Newt could only be trusted with glass containers if they held kaiju guts, and that only barely. He pushed the bottle and the cup at Hermann. “You pour. I’ll just make a mess.”

 

It was true. Hermann glanced at the label and blinked, surprised to see it was written in German. “Where on earth did they get this?” he asked, too stunned to act cranky.

 

Newt just winked, and Hermann sighed. Who could complain about breaking rules when it meant getting around rationing and trade restrictions? He cracked open the beer, but when he moved to pour it in the cup, Newt grabbed his wrist.

 

Hermann stared at his hand, at his flaked black nail polish, at the scar that ran between two fingers from the time he had been yelling at Hermann and snapped a sample jar in half. It was the first time Newt touched him deliberately—well, that Hermann had been conscious for.

 

“Come on, man,” said Newt, and there was an undertone to his voice Hermann didn’t recognize. “Live a little.”

 

“I don’t care for spirits,” said Hermann, but he took a drink of the beer anyway. He hadn’t had any since graduate school; it brought back a wealth of memories he’d thought long buried. Of a life lived without the long shadow of the kaiju.

 

Could it really ever be like that again?

 

He looked at the faded salamander on Newt’s neck.

 

Yes. Maybe yes. He poured the beer for Newt.

 

***

 

It didn’t get crowded, and there was no broken fog machine, and while Hermann didn’t care for the music, it wasn’t the band’s fault. He didn’t understand anything written after the eighteenth century, when mathematicians and musicians went down separate paths as though they were not two halves of a whole.

 

But Newt enjoyed himself, and since he was watching the band and the lighting was dim, Hermann could stare at Newt all he wanted.

 

The desire remained. It had never faded. There had just been better things to focus on—but those better things were paying off. Maybe it was time to see if something else would pay off, too.

 

***

 

The band finished their set and encores. As they left the stage, Newt looked to Hermann. His grin was irritating and obnoxious and infectious at the same time. It drove Hermann up a wall because it made Newt into the most handsome man in the world even as he suggested something completely insane.

 

“You know what I feel like right now? Some really trashy fast food. You game?”

 

Hermann rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not hungry. But I don’t feel like going back, either.”

 

“Cool. I’ll buy you ice cream or something.”

 

***

 

Newt bought the biggest, trashiest burger he could find and fries covered in gravy, which he ate with a relish that simply wasn’t human. At least Hermann was used to that. Newt ate in the lab—somehow avoiding food poisoning even though he never sanitized anything and ate on the same table he used for kaiju dissection.

 

He stuck a fry dripping with grease in Hermann’s face. “Suuuure you don’t want any?”

 

“It amazes me how you capture the cadence and mindset of a twelve-year-old so completely and so perfectly,” Hermann replied, distilling all of the disgust he had ever felt for Newton Geiszler in a single sentence.

 

Then he took the fry. It smelled heavenly and tasted even better. They sat on a park bench and passed the box back and forth, for all the world two ordinary people.

 

When Newt finished eating and licking his fingers and smacking his lips—generally making a production of it—he told Hermann to wait for him and returned with two enormous soft-serve ice cream cones.

 

“I know you like vanilla, but I figured I’d get you a twist cone because you’re already out of your comfort zone. Anyway, chocolate is sexy.” Newt waggled the cone in Hermann’s face.

 

Hermann waited for him to calm, then accepted the ice cream. For a wonder, Newt ate his in silence, although that might have been because his ice cream was dripping down the sides. He’d brought napkins. Hermann was half-tempted to wipe the ice cream off the sides of his mouth like Newt was an unruly six-year-old. (It was only half because the other part of him wanted to lick it off, and then to realize his dream of biting that damn salamander.)

 

Newt finished first, but he kept quiet, even though he should have been riding a massive sugar rush.

 

Hermann liked the silence, but he thought back to the club and spoke anyway. Why not? “What are you thinking about?”

 

Pleased surprise crossed Newton’s face. Then he smirked. “Watch yourself, Hermann. That almost sounded like normal human interaction.”

 

Hermann frowned, but not strongly. He felt a touch of irritation, but outside of a life-and-death professional setting, it was pleasant, a pinch reminding him he was alive. “Watch _yourself_ , Dr. Geiszler.”

 

“I’m starting to think calling me Newt might give you an aneurysm,” said Newt, but comfortably. He smiled—not a smirk, nor a grin, but a smile, and Hermann could have looked at it forever. “Nah, there’s nothing much going on up here.” Hermann raised his eyebrows, and Newt shrugged in reply. “Okay, okay. I was just… kinda glad you came out with me. I mean—it’s weird, ‘cause in the lab you drive me up the wall and vice versa, but—out here…”

 

He tipped his head back and studied the stars. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I mean, I’ve been on dates before and tried to explain the stuff I do--the tattoos--and it just doesn’t work.”

 

Hermann frowned—not in irritation now, but confusion. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt, or if he was allowed to be hurt, or if they were even talking about the same thing.

 

Newt blinked. “What?”

 

Hermann shook his head—at himself, not Newt. Foolishness. “We should get back.”

 

“Hey, don’t—” Newt frowned back: not in a way to start fights, but still frowning. “Look at me.”

 

“Why?” said Hermann. His mind had already moved on again, but this time the prospect of work seemed—empty, as it never had before.

 

“You have ice cream on your face.”

 

Hermann _did_ look at Newt, intending to tell him off, but Newt kissed him. Hermann’s free hand clenched on his slacks; he didn’t close his eyes, nor did he kiss back. The kiss had caught him between heartbeats, and he couldn’t seem to find the rhythm again.

 

Newt backed off as quickly as he had engaged, and that was a shame, because Hermann had almost caught up. They stared at each other. “Unless—you know—that’s not how it is—” said Newt, a blush blooming in his cheeks.

 

Hermann had never seen him blush. It was fetching.

 

“If we’re going to talk about ice cream,” said Hermann at last, “you have it everywhere.”

 

Newt blinked, and Hermann closed the distance between them to kiss Newt’s temple, his cheeks, his lips—briefly—and the underside of his chin. Newt let out a breathy gasp, and his hand found Hermann’s knee.

 

Hermann pressed his lips to Newt’s neck, feeling his heartbeat stutter, then slid them up to the skin behind Newton’s ear and the tail of the salamander. Newt made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan; their legs slid together like the tines of a zipper, and Newt kneaded his knee against Hermann’s crotch.

 

“I’m messy, but I’m really pretty sure I didn’t get ice cream on my tat.” His voice cracked as Hermann nipped his earlobe, and Hermann smirked in satisfaction.

 

“How would you know? You don’t have perspective on anything, much less your personal appearance.” Hermann dragged his lips down the length of the salamander’s tail and bit when it seemed appropriate.

 

Newt squeaked, his hands clutching at Hermann’s legs and shirt. “Ah—okay, maybe we really should go back. Unless you want to get picked up for public indecency. Which I’ve done, and it’s not as much fun as it sounds.”

 

He had a point. Hermann sighed. He resisted the urge to bite Newt hard enough to bruise and drew back. Before he could say anything or get up, Newt caught Hermann’s face in his hands, and they kissed again. Properly this time, Newt’s tongue tracing patterns along Hermann’s lips.

 

“Okay,” Newt said abruptly, breaking the kiss. “Let’s go back.”

 

Hermann watched with a blank expression as Newt got up. He waved away the hand Newt offered to help him stand, but he accepted the arm Newt held out, and they walked back to the ferry to the Shatterdome twined like plants growing on a trellis.


	3. Kaiju Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann closed his eyes, pressing down hard on his thigh. “It’s just a cramp. I’m used to it. It’ll pass—”
> 
>  
> 
> But Newt was reaching for the buckle of his belt. “I was looking for a good reason to take your pants off. Lean back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter, obviously. It is my first time writing M/M, so it shall be an experience for all of us.

They acted like human adults walking back to their quarters, if only because the PPDC wasn’t as big as it seemed and someone would want an explanation eventually. But Newt’s room came up first, and they both went into it. They stared at each other. Hermann wondered if Newt wanted to talk. It seemed like something that should happen, but not right now.

 

Then Newt _grinned,_ the way he did when a new kaiju shipment arrived, and kissed Hermann, digging his fingers into Hermann’s belt and pulling on Hermann’s lower lip with his teeth. Hermann pushed back—partly because his leg locked up and he was about to stumble, and partly because he thought Newt would like it.

 

And Newt did. He let Hermann shove him into the wall, apparently unbothered by the large metal rivets digging into his skin. This time, their hips met straight on, and Newt ground against him, hissing between his teeth. “Shit—man—”

 

Hermann wanted to stay there forever with Newt trapped between him and the wall, but the first lock-up had been a warning; his leg gave, and he almost dropped to his knees. Newt caught him. “Oh, fuck, your fucking _leg,_ ” said Newt, and he helped Hermann over to the bed. “Are you okay?”

 

Hermann closed his eyes, pressing down hard on his thigh. “It’s just a cramp. I’m used to it. It’ll pass—”

 

But Newt was reaching for the buckle of his belt. “I was looking for a good reason to take your pants off. Lean back.”

 

Hermann hesitated, then obeyed, resting his weight on his elbows. Newt undid his belt and the zipper of his pants, his fingers lingering over Hermann’s erection. Hermann bit his lip. Then Newt undid the button and slid Hermann’s pants down. “Why am I not surprised that you wear tighty whities?”

 

Hermann had the perfect response, but it disappeared the moment Newt’s fingers dug into his skin, warm and deft and just hard enough to hurt in the best way. Hermann’s head dropped back; he let out a guttural noise as Newt’s fingers moved up and down the tight muscle and tendons, massaging the cramp away

 

Hermann’s leg let go, and he fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Newt continued massaging, working on the ligaments to the left and right of Hermann’s knee.

 

“You,” Hermann managed, “are very good at that.”

 

Newt smirked; for once it did not make Hermann want to strangle him, since it was wholly earned. “Perks of studying anatomy for-fucking-ever, man. I know where everything is and where it goes. It doesn’t hurt that I’ve got magic fingers.” He slid his hand back up Hermann’s leg, gently, their skin barely meeting. “Better?”

 

Hermann nodded. The sudden absence of pain made it difficult to open his eyes, but he did it anyway. “Much.” He found a use for Newt’s stupid skinny tie: he seized it and pulled Newt down toward him. Newt obeyed, but cautiously, lowering until they almost touched. He paused, a clear question.

 

Hermann slid his hand between them to touch his hip. “Just don’t put any weight here, and we’ll be fine. I _have_ done this before. I know how to handle it.”

 

“Mmm. Right.” Newt brought his hips down and pressed against Hermann’s for a moment, then settled with one leg between both of Hermann’s and his crotch pressed to Hermann’s good leg.

 

“Take off your shirt,” said Hermann, after they had kissed for a comfortable amount of time. “I feel stupid, lying here half-naked alone.”

 

Newt snorted. “Dude, it’s okay. I know you dig the tattoos. It’s kiiiind of obvious.” He perched on his knees and took off his tie, throwing it somewhat in the direction of the closet. Button by button, he took off his shirt.

 

As he pulled the tails out of his pants, Hermann slid his hands up from Newt’s hips to the bare expanse of his chest, tracing his fingers across stylized flame and smoke. Newt smirked, tossing aside his shirt. He twitched as Hermann pinched his nipple, then shifted so he could settle next to Hermann on his side. Hermann continued to explore Newt’s tattoos, ignoring Newt's self-satisfied expression. “I knew you made a big stink about my ink because you thought it was hot.”

 

“They’re tasteless,” said Hermann, running his fingers down Newt’s arm. “It’s just—you.” The words came out softer than he meant; he wasn’t sure if he minded.

 

Newt shifted; something passed over his face. “Yeah, I’m not really into sweater vests on anyone else, either. But you make it work.”

 

Hermann wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he tilted Newt’s face to his.

 

***

 

“So how do we handle it?”

 

“Well, first those have to come off.” He undid Newt’s belt and let it hang as he palmed Newt’s erection. Newt closed his eyes, humming with pleasure. The sound roused a stirring in Hermann; he made quick work of Newt’s button and zipper and tugged. “…Where in the name of all that is holy did you get kaiju-patterned boxers?”

 

“How can you sound grossed out when you’re horny? It’s a really interesting skill, actually.” Hermann frowned at him, but Newt just chuckled. “The internet is awesome, man.” Redness crept up his neck. “Nobody’s been looking at my underwear in a while, in case you didn’t figure that out. It wasn’t important.” He paused. “I have socks with little Knifeheads on the toes.”

 

“Newton.”

 

“Whaaaaaat?” The word started irritated and became contented as Hermann pulled down Newt’s boxers and slid his hand over the length of his cock.

 

“Bring that here. And stop distracting me.”

 

***

 

Despite Newton’s insistence that he hadn’t had a proper fuck since joining the PPDC, he had a box of condoms tucked away in the nightstand. When Hermann asked, Newt blushed and mumbled something that Hermann didn’t catch.

 

It might have been “wanting to do this for a while,” and that was good.

 

***

 

It took coaching and some flexibility on Newt’s part, but they found a position, pressed together every inch, and Newt kissed him desperately as Hermann cupped them both together and stroked. Newt came first, and his moan and the shudders of his lean body pushed Hermann over the edge half a heartbeat later.

 

They stayed that way for a moment, Newt balanced over him and both of them gasping for breath, and Hermann realized Newt was saying something.

 

“—awesome. God, I _knew_ you were awesome—”

 

***

 

After, Newt curled beside him like a cat, satisfied and half-asleep. Hermann sat up, and Newt lifted his head. “You don’t—have to go back.”

 

Hermann looked over at him; Newt dropped his eyes, and it was ridiculous because what did he have to be self-conscious about? Hermann felt just as strange and just as liberated.

 

But he couldn’t find a way to say that, so he said instead, “I’m just taking off my socks—why am I still wearing them?”

 

The question was muttered to himself, but Newt just nodded. “It’s the Sock Gap, man.”

 

Despite Newt’s ministrations, Hermann’s leg had gone stiff, so taking off his socks was tricky. Hermann still paused and raised one eyebrow at Newt, though. Some things one could not let slide.

 

Newt leaned on his elbow. “Seriously! If you don’t take off your socks at a critical point before sex, they never come off. And then you’re all snuggled up in the afterglow, and she says, ‘Why are you still wearing socks?’ and everything just goes downhill from there.” Hermann kept staring at him; Newt stared back, as he always did when delivering something insane.

 

Hermann removed his socks and settled next to Newt. The bed was narrow, but that didn’t seem to matter; Newt velcroed himself to Hermann’s side, his head resting on Hermann’s shoulder. “…You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

 

“Same to you, baby doll,” said Newt, stifling a yawn. “Go to sleep. We’ve got shit to do.”

 

***

 

The nickname registered a few minutes later. “Did you _honestly_ just call me ‘baby doll?’” Hermann demanded, sitting bolt upright.

 

Newt didn’t even open his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who did Hermann have sex with since his accident? He's not telling.


	4. Variables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You hungry? I was gonna go steal some bagels and shit from Tendo.” He leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Tendo says there’s Lucky Charms here, Hermann. Do you realize how important this is.”
> 
> “It’s too early for so much sugar,” Hermann mumbled, sitting up. “No wonder you get wound up so easily.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with care. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll join you.” 
> 
> “But—I meant—”
> 
> Hermann paused and pressed his hand against his forehead again. “No, you’re right. That would be—foolish. I’ll wait. No one should notice if we leave at different times.”
> 
> Newt frowned, tilting his head to one side. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if we are ever having the same conversation.”

Hermann woke slowly the next morning. When did he put a Coyote Tango poster on his ceiling?

 

He blinked a few times, and he remembered what had happened. He glanced beside himself, instinctively. The bed was empty. How did he feel about that?

 

Not surprised, that was for certain.

 

He brought the heel of his hand to his forehead and rubbed, wondering if he should file away his memories of last night or if it was safe to leave them out for a while longer.

 

“Hey,” said Newt, softly.

 

Hermann glanced over. Newt was leaning back in his desk chair, his feet propped on the wall and a whiteboard with a half-finished sketch on his lap. He wore boxers and nothing else, and he was watching Hermann—well, softly. With the kind of concentration he usually saved for kaiju guts.

 

Probably only because he was engrossed in his work. Hermann pushed himself up on his elbows, pushing away his absurd relief. “Good morning, Newton,” he said, because manners meant he didn’t have to think of something more significant.

 

Newt stuck the end of his marker between his teeth. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I had to piss like a motherfucker, and then I got an idea—”

 

Hermann waved away the comment; he wasn’t sure if he could handle Newt’s style of conversation this early in the morning. He wasn’t a human being until he had tea, and he still felt… confused.

 

Newt swung his legs down and set the whiteboard aside. “You hungry? I was gonna go steal some bagels and shit from Tendo.” He leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Tendo says there’s _Lucky Charms_ here, Hermann. Do you realize how important this is.”

 

“It’s too early for so much sugar,” Hermann mumbled, sitting up. “No wonder you get wound up so easily.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with care. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll join you.”

 

“But—I meant—”

 

Hermann paused and pressed his hand against his forehead again. “No, you’re right. That would be—foolish. I’ll wait. No one should notice if we leave at different times.”

 

Newt frowned, tilting his head to one side. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if we are ever having the same conversation.” Hermann cocked a brow, absently massaging his knee. Newt leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You act like anybody would be at all surprised to hear we got it on.”

 

Hermann frowned and dropped his eyes to his leg, pretending to work out a knot so he could consider his expression. Had it been that obvious? Really?

 

Had it been that obvious to _Newt_? Hermann didn’t know how to feel about that, either.  The unknowns tilted like a block tower, threatening to fall and make a mess everywhere.

 

Newt slid out of the chair and across the floor, reaching up to replace Hermann’s hand with his own. Despite his uncertainty, Hermann let him. Newt hadn’t been exaggerating his talent for massages. “I’m pretty sure if Tendo finds out he’ll win, like, fifty bucks off the Hansens. And I know our stupid little graduate students have a pool going.”

 

“They _are_ little bastards,” Hermann said, because it was hard to feel ambiguous when Newt’s fingers were edging higher up his thighs. And because it was true. “I still don’t understand you, though.”

 

Newt snickered. “Herm. Think for a second. What does everybody say when they meet us?”

 

“‘Shut up?’” said Hermann, because it was true.

 

Newt brought his other hand up so he could pinch Hermann’s good leg. “Yes, but as usual you are missing the goddamn point.” Despite his words, his voice was fond, and it only softened more as he continued. “They say we bicker like an old married couple, _arschloch_. Like, if I had a dollar for every time I heard someone tell me that, I could buy a fucking Jaeger.” He paused. “Maybe not a whole Jaeger. A foot, at least. A Jaeger foot. That’s a lot of metal.”

 

“A quarter of a ton,” said Hermann, because facts were good and solid and made much more sense than Newt’s calm, fond voice.

 

Newt _had_ kissed him first. Maybe Hermann was just being foolish.

 

“Aaaand I’m pretty sure nobody cares about the whole inter-departmental hooking-up thing. I mean, it’s in the handbook, but who reads the handbook? Besides you, I mean.”

 

Hermann said nothing to that. He had read the handbook, but only so he could shake it in Newt’s face when he broke the health code.

 

“Anyway, I was not planning to go out and have breakfast.” Newt tilted his head back so he could look into Hermann’s eyes; his hand crept up above Hermann’s hip and squeezed. “I was planning to go out and scavenge breakfast so I can bring it back here. Because fuck leaving.”

 

Hermann bit his lip. “We have work to do,” but his tone of voice left it obvious he was looking for a rebuttal.

 

“I actually can’t do anything yet. I put some shit in the NMR and it won’t be done until—” He glanced at the kaiju-shaped novelty clock above his desk. The hour and minute hands were the kaiju’s secondary arms. “Noon, I think. That thing’s a piece of shit. But… yeah.” He looked back up into Hermann’s face with a question that Hermann didn't know how to answer.

 

Cautiously, Hermann cupped Newt’s face in his palm. “…I’m useless until I have my tea anyway. You seem to know that.”

 

“And it takes at least fifteen minutes for caffeine to reach the brain.” Newt’s voice was innocent, but his eyes danced.

 

Hermann’s chest twisted; he felt lucky and terrified at the same time. He stroked his thumb over Newt’s cheekbone; Newt’s eyes closed. “I think I can set aside time until noon, yes.”

 

“Hmmph. You want it as bad as I do, Gottlieb.” He tipped his head to the side, highlighting the emerging bruises on the side of his neck and shoulder.

 

It seemed simplest to say yes—but it wasn’t simple at all, so Hermann rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I am simply a believer in the scientific method, Newton. How am I to draw firm conclusions without more data?”

 

***

 

“Something’s firm, and it is _not_ your conclusions.”

 

***

 

Another reason Newt was an asshole—he'd lose track of a conversation and pick it up hours later, expecting everyone around him to know the context. And it was always at the worst time. He’d expound on a new tattoo in front of a Ranger or Marshal. He’d complain about their interns when the interns were still in the room, usually right in front of him.

 

He’d decide it was time to talk about feelings when he was bent over Hermann, his lips on Hermann’s neck and his fingers on Hermann’s perineum.

 

He lifted his head and looked over Hermann’s shoulder.

 

Hermann knew that look; he grabbed Newt’s ass and dug his fingernails in until Newt yelped. “If you start talking about kaiju right now, I swear to everything I hold sacred that I will never have sex with you again. _Those_ stay out of the bedroom, Dr. Geiszler.”

 

“Ooh, call me Dr. Geiszler again. That’s actually kind of hot in bed.” Hermann scowled up at him; Newt ignored him, fingertips sliding absently over Hermann’s shaft.

 

“You have the attention span of a rodent,” Hermann muttered.

 

Newt smirked and squeezed; Hermann’s hips jerked. Newt sat up, but only to reach for the lube on the nightstand. “Ooh, shit, that’s cold, hang on a second.” Hermann watched, unable to feel shame, as Newt’s hands slid over each other. The smirk remained on Newt’s lips, and he kept rubbing the lube over his hands even though it was certainly the right temperature by now. “Seriously, though, I was thinking.”

 

“ _There’s_ a surprise.”

 

Newt tossed his head. “I’ll ignore that for the sake of conversation.” He squeezed his hands together one last time, then slid one finger down Hermann’s length. “Are you that worried about it? People finding out, I mean.”

 

Hermann’s eyes snapped to Newt’s. “We’re talking about this _now_?”

 

Newt shrugged. His finger continued its lazy path up and down, but his eyes shifted, taking on the same cast they had when asking Hermann to stay.

 

Hermann bit his lip. Newt was watching him closely, which was never conducive to good thought. “I… need to clarify some points before I can answer your question."

 

“I don’t know if it’s cute or annoying that you talk about _everything_ like it’s a goddamn experiment.”

 

“I don’t know any other way,” said Hermann quietly.

 

Newt cocked his head; Hermann felt like a kaiju cell under a microscope because that was the only time Newt displayed so much concentration. Then Newt shook his head and leaned down to kiss the corner of Hermann’s mouth. “It kinda works, actually. Science only makes sense if you define your terms, and the same goes for—y’know. Relationships.” He slid his lips over and kissed Hermann slowly, in the rhythm he tapped his pencil when analyzing new data.

 

Hermann slid his hands between their chests and nudged them apart, then slid his hands down to Newt’s hips. “It’s difficult to speak while kissing, Newton.”

 

Newt shrugged, unapologetic. “All right, so you are… not comfortable with other people knowing about us. That’s the conclusion we’re working toward?”

 

There was really no worse way to have this conversation—or maybe there was no better way, because they did need to have it, and lying to Newt’s large eyes was impossible. “Um. Yes. That’s correct.”

 

“I would never in my life think you would say ‘um.’”

 

“It’s also difficult to speak while you’re doing that.” Hermann glanced down at Newt’s hand, sliding over him.

 

“Oh. Sorry. My hands got bored. Let’s just—hold that thought.” He slid away and rolled on his side, settling alongside Hermann with his head propped on his hand.

 

Hermann rested his hands on his chest, looking at them instead of Newt. He wanted to pull the blanket up over himself, but there was no way to do it subtly.

 

“Are you wanting clarification on my side of things before you let other people know-slash-voice your opinion?” Newt asked, when he was comfortable. “Because I don’t give two shits. People think what they want about me all the time, so it doesn’t matter. But I can understand that you’re not comfortable—we’re colleagues, professional setting, blah blah blah. You’re just that kind of guy. And that’s cool. I don’t mind. The rest of the world can go fuck itself, as far as I’m concerned.”

 

Hermann relaxed a little at that. Cautiously, he slid his arm up under Newt’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “That's correct." He cleared his throat. "My—hesitation isn’t because of the variables you described earlier, although they are a factor. It’s just… difficult for me. Managing myself in a relationship. Saying what I feel.”

 

“Well, yeah, I kind of figured _that_ out.” Hermann frowned, and Newt laughed softly. “Dude, you seduced me by telling me I looked like a hot mess.”

 

“Only because you did. And you started it.” He blushed, thinking of that kiss, and almost told Newt how it had felt for him. Almost. It was embarrassing.

 

“Yeah, but—you can, like, sum up the exact reasons I have irritated you in a sentence that sounds like it belongs in Shakespeare. And yet you pick me up like that.” He traced a finger over Hermann’s cheek.

 

Hermann averted his eyes. “…Summarizing why you irritate me is simple because it involves only my own feelings, Newton.” He glanced again at Newt—he couldn’t help it—and the tightly knotted feelings within him let go, because Newt was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning, just— _smiling._

 

“Okay. I get it now.” Newt shifted so he could press his lips to Hermann’s cheek. “I like you, you dumb nerd. Not just like ‘I want you to talk dirty to me in that freaking accent’ like you. Like… ‘I actually miss it when you don’t throw chalk at me’ like you. Like ‘you have the greatest freaking smile’ like you. Like ‘you are adorable like kittens frisking in a basket when you blush’ like you.”

 

Hermann’s lips parted. The last knot of tension left his chest, but what came out of his mouth was, “I never heard anyone with so many doctorates say ‘like’ as much as you do.”

 

Newt snorted. “That’s just because you’ve never met anyone with as many doctorates as me.”

 

Hermann swallowed, then caught Newt’s chin. “I miss throwing chalk at you, too.”

 

Newt made a face. “No fair, you dork. I did the True Life Confession. Use your own words.”

 

Hermann slid his hand to cup Newt’s cheek. “…I once calculated the amount of work I get done when you leave versus when you are here. I was trying to prove that your presence has an adverse affect on my concentration, but it is—precisely the opposite. I was forced to draw the conclusion that—that I want you around, if only because I seem to do my best work.” He hesitated. “…I look for you when you’re gone. The lab feels empty.”

 

Newt blinked. The tips of his ears had gone red. Then he kissed Hermann, and Hermann reached up to tangle his fingers in Newt’s hair.

 

“Oh, jeeze, I’m not very good at staying in one place, though,” said Newt, pulling away.

 

“Will you come back?” Hermann replied, softer than he meant.

 

“I always have.” Newt kissed him again. “There. Better?”

 

“We’ve answered one question. But, as always in science, solve one problem and another appears.” He glanced down at himself and raised his eyebrows.

 

Newt snorted and dropped his forehead down to Hermann’s. “That is the, like, the best way I’ve ever had someone ask me for a handjob.” He leaned back, cracking his knuckles above his head. “Okay, dude, scientific method time. Let’s see if I can replicate my results from last night—y’know, the part where you smiled and laughed like a normal human being.”

 

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Newton. You should write up a proposal immediately.”

 

***

 

“Seriously, though. Call me Dr. Geiszler. Like, right now.”

 

“How will you ever develop as a person if you get what you want all the time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ultimate difference between Hermann and Newt, I think. Hermann calls it a perineum. Newt calls it a taint.


	5. FMA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But laying around is like the best parrrrt,” Newt whined, though he was already sitting up. “We never get to do that stuff together. We’re always too busy.” Hermann glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. Newt blushed, pressing his face into the pillow. “I mean—I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t expect normal-people stuff since—fuck, I’ve never been normal, and you crawled fully formed from the depths of Cambridge,” Hermann gave him a Look, which Newt ignored, “and the whole world’s a fucking mess, but… I don’t know.”
> 
> Hermann chewed the inside of his cheek. He stepped over to Newt and ran one hand down the center of his shoulderblades. Newt arched up into the touch, hmm-ing with pleasure when Hermann found a knot and began to knead it loose. It was easier to speak when Newt wasn’t looking directly at him. “…No, it is a shame,” he said softly. “I would have liked…”
> 
> Newt turned his head, his expression irritated and too knowing. “You know, the only time I’ve heard you fail to finish a sentence is when you’re talking about your feelings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahah, dude, what happened to October? I was trying to play with this, make it less episodic, but then I just admitted that there's too much time to cover and went with it. This one is less of a standalone chapter and more of something to set stuff up that happens later.

When the knock came on Newt’s door in the middle of the night, Hermann was thinking of sleep, and how wonderful it was, and how awful this newcomer was for tearing him away from its arms.

 

Newt stirred beside him. “Whazzat?” he mumbled, groping for his glasses. He nearly smacked Hermann in the face, but Hermann was used to that; he already had Newt’s glasses and passed them over so Newt could shove them on his face.

 

“Someone looking for you, presumably.”

 

Newt groaned, pressing his cheek into Hermann’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeahhhh. I’ll get it.”

 

“You’ll have to, since I haven’t got trousers on.”

 

“Pfft. _Trousers_.” He slid over Hermann and pulled on a Batman t-shirt and matching shorts. “H’lo?” he said, opening the door a crack.

 

Hermann pulled the blanket higher over his body, hoping the visitor wouldn’t see him.

 

“Dr. Geiszler?” A soft voice, feminine.

 

“Makooooo.” Newt stepped to the left, blocking any chance the teenager could look inside. “What’s up, girl?” He bent slightly to put himself on her level. Newt spoke to the girl like an equal, though his voice was quieter than usual.

 

The girl answered in embarrassed Japanese. Newt responded in the same language—his accent was awful--and ruffled the girl's hair. “Hang on a sec, Mako.”

 

Newt snuck back to the bed. Hermann looked up at him expectantly. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, pulling on actual pants.

 

“We have a presentation tomorrow,” said Hermann, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. A warm prickling had settled inside his heart when Newt ruffled Mako’s hair. Newt was just so… sweet, and it was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. 

 

“Yeah, I know, but—Mako's up, I'm up, we’re gonna go watch anime. Go back to sleep, babe.” He buckled his belt and brushed his fingers through Hermann’s hair. Hermann caught his hand and squeezed, because it was easier than expressing himself. Before he left, Newt pulled the blanket up over Hermann’s shoulders.

 

***

 

Hermann did want to go back to sleep, but his leg cramped when he rolled over wrong—a symptom of changing beds. There was no chance of rest after that. He found his writing tablet and started making notes by the light of Newt’s ridiculous Trespasser lamp.

 

Newt returned two hours later, his netbook tucked under his arm. “What are you doing upppp?” he whispered, slipping out of his pants. “I didn’t want you to wait for me.”

 

“I wasn’t waiting for you,” which was half a lie. He watched Newt strip, his eyes moving over the tattoos. Newt had a new one every time they reunited, like a gift. “My leg started to hurt.” Newt paused, as he always did, and Hermann shook his head, setting the tablet and pencil on Newt’s bedside table. “It’s fine now. I’m just very much awake.”

 

“Really.” Newt grinned and peeled down the blanket, pressing his lips to any new skin that appeared.

 

“Now, Newton?” said Hermann, his lips twitching.

 

Newt bit the base of his ribs, making Hermann twitch. “You’re naked, I’m naked, you’re awake, I’m awake— _yeah_ , now.”

 

Hermann smoothed his hands up Newt’s hips, still pretending irritation even though he was glad to have some way to express the stupid feeling in his heart. “All right. Now.”

 

***

 

After, Newt ended up beside him, already settling into position for sleep, but Hermann turned to him, his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know you were on a first-name basis with Mako Mori.”

 

Newt snorted. “I’m on a first-name basis with everyone, Herm. I like it that way.” Hermann waited, and Newt blew a raspberry. “Okay, okay. I’ve seen her around. She has—nightmares, and I keep a late schedule, and one time--this was way long ago--I caught her crying in the mess hall because she broke her glass or something. She… she’s tough, but everybody needs help sometimes. So I asked her if she could translate some of my manga for me, and…” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. Hermann watched the movement of his tattoos, half-amused and half-curious. “I told her I didn’t sleep much, either, and I liked watching subbed stuff, and so…” He rubbed his ear. "I like kids, okay?"

 

Hermann shifted. He didn't know what to do with that piece of information--he thought it was interesting, but he wasn't sure why. A change of subject was called for so he could think abot it. “...So you were watching cartoons with Marshal Pentecost’s foster daughter.”

 

Newt didn’t open his eyes; he was making a nest for himself in the sheets and the curve of Hermann’s arm. “It’s not cartoons, it’s _anime_ , and I know you’re just saying that to pull my tail, and it is _not_ going to work.” He paused, and then he frowned, and then he opened his eyes. “Okay. It worked, you dick.” Hermann smiled; Newt kept frowning. “Gimme my netbook.”

 

Hermann passed it over, and Newt balanced it on top of Onibaba, bringing up a collection of video files. “We weren’t just watching anime, we were watching _FMA: Brotherhood_.” Hermann looked at him blankly. In response, Newt pointed to a poster that hung over his bed. “It’s, like, the best, deepest thing I’ve ever seen.” A pink tinge came into his cheeks. “’Ve been meaning to make you watch it anyway.”

 

“Why?” said Hermann, resettling himself so he could see the screen without straining. Newt curled closer into his chest unconsciously, frowning at the stuttering video program. “You know I don’t care for television.”

 

“Yeah, but—just watch it, okay? You’ll see. It… it made me think of you for a lot of reasons.” He paused. “It makes me think about a lot of stuff. It’s that kind of show. But… yeah. Just watch.”

 

***

 

The first episode was entertaining, if violent. The second was horrifying. The mother's death was bad enough. But the poor boy had to go and lose his leg, and then he had to learn to walk again. Hermann tried not to show how uncomfortable he was, even though the way the boy reacted was painfully true to life, but Newt glanced over and paused the video. “I didn’t—you don’t like it?”

 

Hermann wasn’t sure how to explain. Injury and death were not strangers to Newt, certainly, but—he hadn’t lived it. It was so large in Hermann’s life. Where would he even start?

 

He settled on something else that was bothering him. “You watched this with a twelve-year-old?”

 

Newt just looked at him over the top of his stupid emo glasses. “Dude. I got into FMA when I was, like, ten. And, hello, her whole family was slaughtered by a fucking kaiju. In front of her. I think she can take gore—especially when I can promise her it all has a happy ending.” He paused and winced. “I mean, she likes it, but… yeah, I can see why maybe it was not a good idea. Maybe we should stick to _Lucky Star_.”

 

He moved to close the video, but Hermann touched his wrist. “It’s not a bad story,” he said when Hermann raised his eyebrows. “It’s dark, but God knows it’s not any darker than the times we live in.”

 

He could almost tell Newt. It was there, on the tip of his tongue. He _wanted_ to tell Newt, the same way he wanted to tell Newt that his freckles were beautiful. But Newt was looking at him guilelessly, his eyes full of calm affection, and Hermann sighed and tapped the play button. It wasn’t worth getting into this late at night.

 

***

 

Neither of them got much sleep that night. Hermann’s leg locked up again, and Newt massaged it, and they watched the first ten episodes of his show. At that point, they—in other words, Hermann—decided it wasn’t worth laying in bed any longer because neither of them were clearly going to get any rest.

 

“But laying around is like the best parrrrt,” Newt whined, though he was already sitting up. “We never get to do that stuff together. We’re always too busy.” Hermann glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. Newt blushed, pressing his face into the pillow. “I mean—I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t expect normal-people stuff since—fuck, I’ve never been normal, and you crawled fully formed from the depths of Cambridge,” Hermann gave him a Look, which Newt ignored, “and the whole world’s a fucking mess, but… I don’t know.”

 

Hermann chewed the inside of his cheek. He stepped over to Newt and ran one hand down the center of his shoulderblades. Newt arched up into the touch, hmm-ing with pleasure when Hermann found a knot and began to knead it loose. It was easier to speak when Newt wasn’t looking directly at him. “…No, it is a shame,” he said softly. “I would have liked…”

 

Newt turned his head, his expression irritated and too knowing. “You know, the only time I’ve heard you fail to finish a sentence is when you’re talking about your feelings.”

 

Hermann blushed. “Yes, well—” He shook his head. “We have a presentation, Newton.” Newton blew a raspberry and pressed his face into the pillow again. “Come now. You have to secure funding for your ridiculous kaiju experiments somehow, and I want another blackboard. We can talk about this later.”

 

***

 

The presentation dissolved into a shouting match, but that seemed to intimidate the accountant. They got their funding.

 

***

 

“So… I have a question.”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“When you get your big, fancy, stupid blackboard… will you fuck me against it?”

 

“That would require you to be on my side of the lab, wouldn’t it?”

 

“But—”

 

“I’ll consider it. If you’re very, very good.”

 

“What if I want to be really, really bad?”

 

“That’s also an option, but you’ll have to put a lot more work into it before I can consider your proposal.” 


	6. Automail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you going to get to the point, Newton, or are we going to spend all night quibbling over irrelevant details?” The words came out sharper than he meant—or maybe not. He couldn't make sense of how he felt.
> 
> “I’m getting there, okay, you know this is how I talk, and I’m sorry that I’m upsetting you but I want you to know how much I do not mean that, so please please please put up with it for like five more minutes.”
> 
> “It never fails to amaze me how many words you can eke out on a single breath. Maybe that’s why you’re so completely off the wall. Your brain never gets enough oxygen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some brief ableist language. Ableism is one of my blind spots, so hopefully I didn't screw it up too badly. Please let me know if I did.
> 
> Also, this fic is no longer consistent with the movie canon (or at least the part from the director's notes on the DVD). I love their origin story, but adjusting the fic was just too much work.

They watched more of _Fullmetal Alchemist_ eventually, as days got longer and both of them ended up in bed later than usual. Winry was repairing Ed’s automail for what seemed like the hundredth time.

 

Newt was half-asleep, but he turned to Hermann. “We could do that, y’know.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Build something like that. Fix your leg.”

 

Hermann stiffened, moving away from Newt without thought.  This conversation was inevitable, the consequence of entering into a relationship with someone uncareful, but that didn’t mean Hermann had to enjoy it. “I’m not broken, Newton.”

 

“No, that’s not what I—” Newt pushed his glasses back onto his face and peered up at Hermann, his eyes earnest and ashamed. “You know that’s not it. I just—”

 

Hermann bit the inside of his cheek, but the words came out anyway. “So that’s why this show makes you think of me? Because the main character and I share a—physical defect?”

 

Hurt flared in Newt’s eyes; Hermann was not sure he regretted it. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

Newt reached up and turned Hermann’s face back to him. Hermann allowed it, but only because he knew this conversation was also the inevitable result of his inability to express himself. He couldn’t fault Newton for failing to understand poorly defined premises.

 

Newt parted his lips, closed them again. The sight of him thinking about his words might have been funny if Hermann wasn’t stewing. “I didn’t mean _fix_ ,” said Newt, slowly (and that, too, was almost funny). “I… I heard about you, before I met you.” Hermann closed his eyes, since he knew what was coming. Newt kept talking anyway, his fingers tracing the lines of Hermann’s jaw. “I mean, there’s the obvious ‘coded the first Jaeger’ thing, but—I knew about your work. I knew you were a genius. And then I heard your copter went down— _shit_ , I thought, _there goes the second-greatest mind of my generation_.”

 

Hermann opened one eye. The familiar rhythm of Newt’s voice was soothing him, though he didn’t wish to admit it. He poked Newt in the ribs, below the curve of Onibaba’s claw. “Second-greatest?”

 

Newt caught Hermann’s hand and pressed it to his chest, to the steady beat of his heart. “Okay, okay, that part’s debatable but only because we work in such different fields and whatever. If I’d stayed in engineering, there’d be no question.”

 

“Are you going to get to the point, Newton, or are we going to spend all night quibbling over irrelevant details?” The words came out sharper than he meant—or maybe not. He couldn't make sense of how he felt.

 

“I’m getting there, okay, you know this is how I talk, and I’m sorry that I’m upsetting you but I want you to know how much I do _not_ mean that, so please please please put up with it for like five more minutes.”

 

“It never fails to amaze me how many words you can eke out on a single breath. Maybe that’s why you’re so completely off the wall. Your brain never gets enough oxygen.”

 

Newt seemed relieved that Hermann was joking; Hermann decided to let him feel relieved, because there was no point in making firm conclusions until he had all the data. “This would go faster if you stopped interrupting me.” Hermann said nothing, and Newt nodded in satisfaction.

 

“ _Anyway_ , then I heard I was going to be working at the same Shatterdome, and I was, like, what the hell it’s only been, like, six months--how he is _functioning_? And I met you and you yelled at me and stumped around the lab and yelled at me some more, and it was just… God, I was blown away. Do you have any idea?”

 

Hermann shifted, pulling his eyes away from Newt’s because no, he hadn’t, and the tail end of his irritation was disappearing in the face of Newt’s complete seriousness.

 

“Yeah. I didn’t think so.” He tapped Hermann’s cheekbone until Hermann looked him in the eye again. “Point is, I met you, and then I went home and watched this show because the same thing happened to Ed, okay? He’s crabby and bitchy and can’t process his emotions, but he got up and he did his job and he was fucking _amazing_ at it, and I look at both of you and I can’t even imagine what kind of steel that takes. Like, honestly, you are the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I work with people who face down kaiju every day of their lives.”

 

Hermann fidgeted. Newt’s unblinking gaze was like a spotlight. Why had he picked now to extend his attention span? After a moment, Hermann dug his fingernails into the space above Newt’s heart. “…I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he whispered. “I know you didn’t mean it, but you need to be careful, Newton, because plenty of people do.”

 

Newt relaxed and pressed his face into Hermann’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry. I talk too fast for the brain to really kick in sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder if there is a brain to kick in,” said Hermann, but fondly.

 

Newt propped his chin on Hermann’s collarbone. “Ignoring that because I found a way to say what I was trying to say without sounding like an ass.” He bit his lip. “It’s… it’s really obvious when you’re in pain, you know. And… I feel bad.”

 

Herman snorted. “Is that what you’re worried about?” A wrinkle appeared between Newt’s brows; Hermann smoothed it away with the tips of his fingers. “The pain I feel is entirely my own fault. My femur was broken in so many places that the X-ray looked like abstract art, and the ball of my hip had to be picked out of me so that they could replace it. There is much more work that could— _should_ —be done on my leg, but I don’t have the patience.”

 

Newt wrinkled his nose; Hermann poked him there, too. “I don’t get why it would be worse than now.”

 

Hermann narrowed his eyes, but not in a bad way. “Let me tell you what the doctor said when I woke up in the hospital. One surgery, and I could function. Four to six months physical therapy, and I could be back at work. Three surgeries, and I would be as whole as humanly possible. A year of physical therapy, at least, not to mention at least a month’s recovery time between each surgery, all of which would be spent so heavily dosed on pain medication I wouldn’t know my own mother if I saw her. I did not have time for that—the _world_ did not have time for that.”

 

Newt stared at him, his eyes enormous behind the lenses of his glasses. It wasn’t pity, but it was more than shock. 

 

Hermann sighed, brushing his fingers through Newt’s dark hair. “There. Now you know.” The look in Newt’s eyes was overwhelming, like standing outside in a thunderstorm and getting soaked to the skin. He wondered when things had gotten more complicated than wanting to worship Newt’s tattoos. Maybe they always had been.

 

Bad idea. He needed to return to familiar territory. “Let’s return to your original idea.” Newt blinked. “You’re an engineer. You can design it yourself.”

 

Newt shook his head. “I never designed stuff from the ground up—well, except for the Milking Machine, but that was different, that was an obsession. I got my doctorate because I improved on stuff that already existed. But you've designed things.” He paused. “Anyway, you know more about the mechanics of the neural connection, and I think that would be a really good way to allow the pilot to control their limb. I mean, the spine thing already slots into the nerves.”

 

Hermann shook his head at the use of “spine thing,” but he drummed his fingers on Newt’s head. “I suppose I couldn’t do it without your expertise, either,” he said at last. “I know all about robots, but the mechanics of the human body is something I’ve always left to others—besides the most basic aspects of its physics, of course.”

 

“Damn straight you couldn’t. I give you all your best ideas.” Hermann raised his eyebrows, and Newt stuck out his tongue.

 

Hermann was tempted to bite it, but that wouldn’t get them anywhere so close after the last time. Instead, he pointed at the laptop, abandoned on the side of the bed. “I need to do more observation before I can decide if your idea is viable or not, Newton.”

 

Newton snorted, pressing a kiss to the top of Hermann’s sternum. “Pfft. You’re into it. I know you are.”


	7. Dry Rot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt worked his fingers down to Hermann’s knee. “I was saying—maybe you should take the rest of the day off.
> 
> Hermann scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Newton. I have work to do.”
> 
> “Yeah, and you spend every waking second of your life doing it.” Hermann arched a brow. “Well, okay, not literally, but pretty close. You can take a break if you need it.” He sighed. “I mean, yeah, this job means taking a certain amount of death in stride, but sometimes it gets to you. I know.”
> 
> Hermann shook his head. “No, I’m all right. It’s—” He trailed off.
> 
> Newt trailed his hand up to Hermann’s hip, then slid it around Hermann’s side. “You’re upset, man. Give yourself some time. The work’ll be there when you get back.”
> 
> Newt sounded so sure of himself. Hermann had always wanted to ask him for the secret.

It was hard to name when things started going bad--specifically, at least. Hermann was too busy working to track trends outside his Breach research, and Newt was unfailingly optimistic. If you listened to him, you'd think they were winning.

Except that they weren't, and Hermann knew they weren't because the Jaeger factories were slowly shutting down, because the number of J-techs on staff was slowly decreasing, because he was called on less and less for code work. 

 

The RSS feed was just a fancy at first, something Hermann to track all the Jaegers he’d coded—which was most of them.

 

Hermann had spent countless hours of his life rearranging lines of code around every complexity of every neuron in every pilot in Marks I-IV. But it was more than that. He’d met the Kaidonovskies before the wedding, when Aleksis was still a shy J-tech engineer and Sasha was fresh from the underground fighting circuit. The Gage twins sent him a pair of the Romeo Blue sneakers, the Becket brothers a scale model of Gipsy. He still exchanged emails with Jasper Schoenfeld, Caitlin Lightcap, and Tamsin Sevier.

 

None of them liked him particularly, or so Hermann thought, but they respected what he could do for him and his place in the PPDC. And they… they were heroes. Heroes out there doing what he could only dream of.

 

Hermann knew them better than anyone thought, and watching them fall…

 

***

 

The feed pinged while Hermann was working, so he barely heard it. Only when he finished did he realize he had a notification. He went over to his computer, sipped his tea, read the headline. It didn’t shock him. There hadn’t been much good news since political opinion had tilted away from the Jaeger program; he’d lost track of when the news reports shifted from kaiju kills to trips to Oblivion Bay.

 

And—

 

He walked back to his blackboard, picked up his chalk, wrote a symbol—

 

He found he needed to sit down, so he sat.

 

Newt came in a few minutes later, dragging a heavy cart with a tank strapped to it. “Guess who got a new spleeeeen?”

 

Hermann closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the base of the blackboard. The slate was blessedly cool.

 

“What, no insults? Come on, call me tasteless. A groupie. I gotta have _something_ to work with, Herm—” He finally turned to face Hermann and broke off. “Hey, hey, are you—”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with my leg, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” His voice came out flat. He opened his eyes, found the sight of the ceiling distasteful, and closed them again. One hand moved to massage his chest, as though it would do something for the abyss slowly opening inside him.

 

He heard Newt step over the hazard tape and considered saying something—one bark about coming over to his side of the lab, and Newt would retreat. But…

 

“Hey, Hermann, look at me.” Newt’s fingers cupped his jaw. “What’s up?”

 

Hermann let out a slow breath. He opened his eyes, though he did not bring his gaze down to meet Newt’s. “Brawler Yukon has fallen.” Newt took in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on Hermann’s jaw. Hermann ignored that and kept speaking, his voice still flat and smooth as his blackboard. “Caitlin D’Onofrio is in the hospital with Drift shock. Sergeant D’Onofrio is dead.” He swallowed. “There’s more details on the computer if you want them.”

 

“God, why would I?” Newt whispered. “I hadn’t even—shit, I knew there was another attack, but nobody was talking about it, so I thought it was okay.” He moved his hands down to Hermann’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

 

Hermann let out a slow breath. “Yes, I just… I needed a moment. To process it, I mean.”

 

Newt let go of his chin and settled beside him. One hand began to massage Hermann’s leg—after so many years, it was a tic. Hermann appreciated it all the same. He _would_ be stiff whenever he got up.

 

He realized Newt was talking. “Pardon?”

 

Newt worked his fingers down to Hermann’s knee. “I was saying—maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”

 

Hermann scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Newton. I have work to do.”

 

“Yeah, and you spend every waking second of your life doing it.” Hermann arched a brow. “Well, okay, not _literally_ , but pretty close. You can take a break if you need it.” He sighed. “I mean, yeah, this job means taking a certain amount of death in stride, but sometimes it gets to you. I know.”

 

Hermann shook his head. “No, I’m all right. It’s—” He trailed off.

 

Newt trailed his hand up to Hermann’s hip, then slid it around Hermann’s side. “You’re upset, man. Give yourself some time. The work’ll be there when you get back.”

 

Newt sounded so sure of himself. Hermann had always wanted to ask him for the secret.

 

“I’m all right,” Hermann repeated, finding Newt’s hand. “Go play with your spleen.”

 

Newt pinched his side and got up with an ease Hermann envied. He held out his hands to help Hermann up. Ordinarily, Hermann would have pushed his hands away, but today he allowed it. Just this once.

 

He looked at his blackboard, but his mind was elsewhere. Newt remained beside him, his eyes moving slowly over the rows of symbols. “Only one Mark I remains in active service,” said Hermann softly. “That’s what it is, I think.”

 

“Yeah, but that Mark I is Cherno.” Newt squeezed his hand. “Cherno’s never going down.”

 

“I wish I could be as certain of that as you, Newton.”

 

***

 

The kaiju got bigger and more awful, but the Jaegers stayed the same.

 

The joy went out of it—everything. Work was pressure again, a drumbeat in the back of his mind telling him to never, never stop because people were dying every day, good Rangers were lost and good Jaegers were scrapped and somewhere right now someone’s life was falling apart because he could _not_ solve the problem of the Breach. Once again, his beloved mathematics was failing him—or maybe he was failing her, because he couldn’t seem to understand the conclusions she showed him, couldn’t make them into plans that other people could execute.

 

Newt felt the strain, too. As Jaegers fell, so did Shatterdomes, and so he had fewer and fewer places to bounce between. It wore on him like too-tight shoes, and his words grew ever more frenetic and incomprehensible. He stopped drinking coffee and started drinking Red Bull, can after can after can.

 

Where did he even _get_ the Red Bull?

 

***

 

They never argued in bed—at least, not before. Alone, they fit together in a way they never could with the outside world pressing in. With no other concerns, Hermann could be patient and calm and relaxed, and Newt could be understanding and gentle and empathetic.

 

But the problems outside crept in between them like dry rot ruining the foundation of a house.

 

Sex got rougher. Newt came away with bruises on his back because Hermann no longer cared to make sure he wasn’t slamming Newt into something too rough, and he acquired a permanent scar near one of his salamander’s feet because Hermann bit hard enough to draw blood. Hermann stopped counting the scratches on his arms and legs and back, stopped caring if someone else noticed the dark hickies on his neck and chest.

 

They stopped talking to each other. Newt stopped asking if something put too much strain on Hermann’s leg; Hermann stopped telling him when he did.

 

But they kept sleeping in the same bed. That was still all right. Newt fell asleep like blowing out a candle—all at once—and when he was beside Hermann, Hermann’s thoughts would slow down, and the panic that undercut every aspect of his life suddenly seemed less real.

 

He thought maybe they could make it out of this, that maybe once it was over—and it would be over—they could figure the rest of it out. Find the balance between stability and chaos that made them work. Because they did work.

 

Didn’t they?


	8. The Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certainly, Newt’s ridiculous idea was part of it—Drifting with a kaiju? It sounded like suicidal ideation dressed up in science, and Hermann couldn’t seem to just say he didn’t want Newt to do something so stupid. Hermann wasn’t sure what he would do if Newt died. Fall apart, probably. And that couldn’t happen, so Newt couldn’t Drift with a kaiju. He just couldn’t, and that was all there was to it, and Newt refused to see that.
> 
>  
> 
> And the deadlines and budget cuts were part of it, too. Hermann and Newt weren’t thrown together because they made sense together anymore. They were the only ones left, and Hermann found that idea so viscerally terrifying that he woke one night gasping and reaching for the glass of water Newt always kept next to the bed. Thank God Newt slept like the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand angst. All I ask is that you bear with me. There will be a happy ending.

The last good night went something like this.

 

They’d tried to have sex, but it fell apart. Hermann’s pain medication was harder to get these days, and he was getting accustomed. And Newt couldn’t concentrate. So they’d given up. It put a damper on their mood, but that was nothing.

 

Newt was half-asleep beside Hermann, propped on his elbows so he could read on his tablet. Hermann was trying to fall asleep, but his leg was playing up, and he kept thinking of the string of numbers on his chalkboard—he’d been satisfied with the day’s calculations while looking at them, but after walking away, something had started to _bother_ him. And he could neither quantify nor silence it.

 

What was it? He knew numbers. He knew kaiju. He knew how they went together. And yet—

 

It came to him like a punch to the gut, so that he could only curl around himself. Before Newt even noticed, Hermann sat up, reaching blindly for a pen—but he was in Newt’s room, so nothing was where it belonged. He found a pen at last, serving as a sword for a samurai figure, but no paper—

 

Newt started to get up, but Hermann put his hand between Newt’s shoulderblades and pressed him down. Newt let out a squawk. “What—”

 

“ _Hush_ ,” said Hermann, and for a wonder, Newt did. There was just enough space across Newt’s shoulderblades for three neat chunks of an equation— _the_ equation. The last piece.

 

He realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out.

 

“Y’know, dude,” said Newt, more than half-irritated, “when people design tattoos, they usually do it on _paper_.”

 

“This is much more important than your blasted tattoos, Newton. Where’s your phone?” He glanced over at the bedside table, then at Newt’s pants, abandoned on the floor. There. Yes.

 

“What did you—”

 

Newt tried to get up again; Hermann pushed him down, holding his phone with the other hand. The lighting wasn’t excellent, but he could read all the symbols, at least.

 

The picture taken, he set Newt’s phone aside and took a moment to think about his realization.

 

“Can I get up yet?” Now Newt sounded fully irritated.

 

Hermann looked at the hand he was still using to keep Newt down, blinked, and pulled away. “I’m—I’m sorry. But… Newton.”

 

Newt yawned. “Yeah, yeah, you had some kind of big math breakthrough. Great. My question is how the hell I’m gonna wash it off. You know I can’t reach that spot on my back.” He rolled over on his side; one hand reached up, apparently unconsciously, to brush the marks.

 

“Newton.” Hermann looked down into his eyes. “I know why I couldn’t make the end of my equation come out right.” Newt opened his mouth; Hermann continued, because Newt talked over him all the time so turnabout was fair play. “Newton. _There will be a triple event_.”

 

Newt opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he flopped across the bed, staring at the ceiling. Not often did Hermann think he and Newt felt the same thing at the same time. “…Guess I know what I’m getting for a backpiece,” Newt said weakly.

 

Hermann pushed his hands through his hair. “Newton, this changes everything. I have to—” He made to get up, but Newt caught his wrist.

 

“Hey, yeah, I know, and no, you don’t have to do it right fucking now.” He yawned again. “You got the picture. Do yourself a favor and get some sleep.” Hermann hesitated, and Newt tugged on his wrist. “Come on, man. Spot’s still warm.”

 

Hermann smiled, in spite of himself, and sighed. “No, you’re right. For once.”

 

“Ignoring that for the sake of cuddling.”

 

***

 

The worst part was that Hermann couldn’t even remember what started the argument.

 

Certainly, Newt’s ridiculous idea was part of it—Drifting with a kaiju? It sounded like suicidal ideation dressed up in science, and Hermann couldn’t seem to just _say_  he didn’t want Newt to do something so stupid. Hermann wasn’t sure what he would do if Newt died. Fall apart, probably. And that couldn’t happen, so Newt couldn’t Drift with a kaiju. He just couldn’t, and that was all there was to it, and Newt refused to see that.

 

And the deadlines and budget cuts were part of it, too. Hermann and Newt weren’t thrown together because they made sense together anymore. They were the only ones left, and Hermann found that idea so viscerally terrifying that he woke one night gasping and reaching for the glass of water Newt always kept next to the bed. Thank God Newt slept like the dead.

 

It was all _that_ —not the way they fit together. Hermann still went quiet when Newt woke up and smiled like being there was the best thing in the world, and Hermann still found his flask of tea every morning, no matter how many kaiju guts were on his side of the damn lab.

 

***

 

The last bad day went something like this.

 

They’d been on the verge of something good—Newt kneeling, the heel of his palm massaging Hermann’s erection—when someone knocked.

 

Not even anyone important. A lab aide, asking for one of Hermann’s encrypted files.

 

When she left, Newt was lounging in Hermann’s desk chair, his chin on his palm. He ticked like a bomb these days, one leg always jittering in a countdown to—something.

 

An argument, perhaps.

 

Hermann bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to fight with Newt. He wanted to lay beside him and move together the way they had always moved together, but the words would not come out of his mouth, just like _I love you_ and _for God’s sake, take_ care _of yourself_ would not come out of his mouth.

 

Newt bit his thumbnail, like he always did to force himself to keep quiet (only when Marshal Pentecost was talking), but then then he dropped his hand and whirled on Hermann, who was still leaning against the wall. “That file she wanted—it’s about the Breach plan.”

 

Hermann narrowed his eyes. “And?”

 

“ _And_ I thought you had dropped that idea. I thought you were working on something else.” His eyes burned like coals from too much caffeine and not enough rest—real rest, not collapsing from exhaustion.

 

Hermann folded his arms across his chest. Heat like a banked fire flared inside him, the way it always did when Newt questioned him. “I was, but the time limit has curtailed those plans. Not to mention that I don’t have the help or the technology I need to properly inspect other options. And Marshal Pentecost is giving it serious consideration, which means I have to make it into a serious proposal—I have to find a way it will work this time. We have no other option.”

 

Newt scowled. “There’s always another option.”

 

“What, like your ridiculous Drift idea?” The words came out all wrong. Hermann could not give Newt’s idea enough credence to destroy it properly, in a way Newt would listen to. It was simply too terrifying.

 

Newt jumped to his feet, his voice rising to a shout. “It _will_ work, God damn you! Or at least it’ll work better than your fucking plan! At least mine will only hurt me—it doesn’t involve sending more good men on a suicide mission!”

 

Hermann took in a sharp breath. Newt knew exactly how he felt about the Rangers that had died on previous expeditions to close the Breach, and even when they were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, he never brought it up, never used it as a—bargaining chip! “How could you _even_ —”

 

“No! How could _you_ even refuse to consider a new idea when yours doesn’t work?”

 

“I will _fix_ that! It is our only sane option, and—”

 

They were in each other’s faces now; Hermann wasn’t sure when he had moved or when Newt had moved to meet him, only that he was _right_ , dammit, and nothing mattered more—

 

Someone banged on their door. “Hey, shut the hell up! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

 

They both froze, inches apart, and if one of them had moved the right way perhaps it all could have been forgotten.

 

But Hermann wasn’t moving.

 

After a moment Newt turned away, his shoulders slumping. “Just… go away. I don’t wanna look at you anymore.”

 

“I can’t,” said Hermann stiffly. “This is my room.”

 

Newt glanced at him; for half a moment, Hermann thought he might laugh. Hoped he might laugh. But Newt just shook his head and left. 


	9. Six Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Newt had not slept together in six weeks.
> 
> Everyone they worked with walked on eggshells because they hadn’t fought, either—in fact, they were downright civil. Newt wore headphones instead of blasting his music. Hermann brought Newt’s lunch to the lab instead of making him leave. They did not look at or speak to each other if they could help it.
> 
> Outside of the lab, Hermann ate badly and slept worse. He started bringing his notes to his bedroom because he would wake so often, and then there was nothing to do but work. He refused to do it in the lab because—because. Because he didn’t want to fall asleep and wake with a jacket tucked over him. Because he didn’t want to see how many energy drinks Newt had consumed that day or how jittery his handwriting had become.
> 
> It was complicated enough. Then Vanessa came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Vanessa time! I hope you will continue to bear with me.
> 
> My headcanon of Vanessa for this fic is Gina Torres.

Hermann first saw Vanessa’s face when he was in physical therapy, which was a horrible place to see her. His leg was a mess, and therapy seemed like an exercise in futility—he would never walk properly again, never run, so what was the point of putting him through all the damn pain?

 

At the end of every session, his therapist left him alone in a room with hot towels wrapped around his thigh to relax the muscle. That part, at least, he could live with.

 

One day they shunted him into a different room. Most rooms were not decorated, save for anatomical drawings, but someone had hung up a poster here.

 

It was propaganda from the PPDC, but not of the usual stripe. The caption read, “They took care of the world. Don’t forget to take care of them. Donate to the Jaeger pilot support fund today.” Instead of stylized illustrations, it featured a woman with mahogany skin dressed in a pilot’s jacket. Her right pant leg was rolled up to reveal a plastic prosthetic, and her arms were crossed across her chest.

 

Hermann had reports to read; they sat untouched beside him.

 

She had such beautiful eyes.

 

***

 

He forgot about that woman, of course. She was just a figure on a poster—not even a real pilot. Hermann would have recognized her if she were.

 

***

 

Hermann and Newt had not slept together in six weeks.

 

Everyone they worked with walked on eggshells because they hadn’t fought, either—in fact, they were downright civil. Newt wore headphones instead of blasting his music. Hermann brought Newt’s lunch to the lab instead of making him leave. They did not look at or speak to each other if they could help it.

 

Outside of the lab, Hermann ate badly and slept worse. He started bringing his notes to his bedroom because he would wake so often, and then there was nothing to do but work. He refused to do it in the lab because— _because_. Because he didn’t want to fall asleep and wake with a jacket tucked over him. Because he didn’t want to see how many energy drinks Newt had consumed that day or how jittery his handwriting had become.

 

It was complicated enough. Then Vanessa came.

 

***

 

He and Newt were working—fractiously—on an improvement to pilot body armor. Not because they wanted to, really, but because there was almost no one left to do it. All the high level J-techs had jumped ship.

 

A particular design element had brought them to loggerheads—Hermann said it would add structural integrity, but Newton kept insisting that it would put too much stress on the pilots wearing it.

 

“Those suits are _hell_ , Gottlieb! They’re already prone to worsening pilot injury as it is! And you want to make it worse?”

 

“Why do you have to make everything so _personal_?”

 

“Because the pilots are fucking heroes, so—”

 

“Excuse me.” The voice was soft, but it was the kind of softness that comes from knowing the owner would never be ignored. 

 

Hermann and Newt turned. Newt's face said he was going to take his anger out on everyone around him, the newcomer _especially_. Hermann just wanted her to go away. Arguments were better than silence.

 

Then he saw her face, and his mind stopped working.

 

The woman from the poster was not supposed to be real. She was not supposed to actually have a prosthetic limb. Her hair was not supposed to curl in a way that defied mathematical description.

 

“Doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler?” She smiled—pleasantly but tightly, the smile of a woman who is used to smiling for men but who does not enjoy it.

 

“Yeahhhh? Can I… help you?” Newt was  _staring_.

 

Hermann would have mocked him for it, but he was not doing much better. He could not reset his brain. What was she _doing_ here?

 

She stepped forward for a handshake with Newt. Newt shook hands, all the while staring at her like—well, like she belonged in modeling. “Lieutenant Vanessa Barsetti. You must be Newt.”

 

Newt perked up. “Uh, yeah, that’s what I like. That’s me. Nice, uh, nice to meet you.”

 

“It’s a pleasure.” She turned to Hermann and extended her hand. At least he knew what to do there. She had a strong grip; her palms were callused. “And that means you’re Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

“Hermann, please,” said Hermann, without meaning to.

 

“Of _course_ ,” Newt muttered, and Hermann shot him a dirty look. They would pick up where they left off the moment this woman went away; certainly he knew that. They always did.

 

Vanessa stepped away, positioning herself an equal distance between both. Hermann wondered if anyone had told her how much they fought. He wondered if Newt thought he wanted this woman because he was staring so—or if Newt wanted her, too. 

 

She put her hands behind her back, standing at attention apparently without thought. “I was wondering if one or both of you could take a moment out of your time to talk about the project you’re working on.”

 

“There is no project,” Newt said, before Hermann could speak—he hated that. Newt always took advantage of Hermann’s manners and jumped on the conversation, like a boy trashing a sand castle. “We’re not collaborating on anything.”

 

The slightest of wrinkles appeared between her brows. Hermann thought of the Marshal. She was perfect the way he was perfect: implacable and intimidating, a creation of willpower and iron self-control. “I meant the improvements to the pilot’s body armor—”

 

“What Dr. Geiszler—” Newt scoffed at the title, crossing his arms over his chest like a spoiled child, “—means to say is that there is no project _yet_.” Hermann rested both hands on his cane. “I am still working out the details according to Dr. Geiszler’s _valuable feedback_.” He shot Newt a look, the kind with a capital _L_ , and was rewarded with an expression perfectly balanced between hurt, anger, and confusion. Good. It was sweet and awful at the same time, like rotten fruit.

 

Vanessa frowned; it was like being frowned at by a bird of prey. She drummed her fingers on her arm. “…Listen, there’s obviously something else going on here, but that’s not important.”

 

“How would you—” Newt began. Vanessa looked at him; Newt’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Hermann wished he could do that.

 

She looked from one to the other, her gaze steady. “I work for the propaganda division of the PPDC. The rumours are true, gentlemen. They’re withdrawing funding for the Jaeger program.”

 

Hermann drew in a sharp breath. Newt let out a squeaky gasp and took a step back. “You can’t be serious—” Vanessa looked at him again, cutting him off before he could start a very long tirade. He dropped his eyes, his lips still parted in shock.

 

“I wish I weren’t. Any sane person looking at the Jaeger program knows it’s the best thing to happen to this planet since the invention of the wheel. But these are politicians we’re talking about. They’re not sane, they’re not dependable, they’re not worth the ground they walk on or the air they breathe—and yet they still control the world’s purse strings. I’ve been commissioned to look into alternative forms of funding. There’s a chance that the UN or NIH or even a private benefactor could pitch in if we prove we can get something else out of the Jaeger program.”

 

“You mean besides an indescribable leap forward in physics, biology, and engineering?” Newt muttered, his eyes to the side. “You mean besides the most awesome achievement in human history barring _maybe_ the moon landings and Curiosity?”

 

Vanessa glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. “You don’t have to convince _me_. I am completely on your side. That’s why I’m here. I’m acting as a liaison between several different possible benefactors and different branches of the PPDC. K-science is my last stop—and frankly, my last hope. I need to find a way to spin the work you’re doing so someone—anyone—will continue throwing money at us.”

 

Hermann cleared his throat, drawing Vanessa’s attention back to him. He was vaguely aware of the pressure of his hand on his cane, of the throb of his heartbeat in his wrist, and he wished she had come any other time than now. He didn’t know if he wanted Newt to look and be jealous, or if he was even still thinking of Newt at all.

 

Focus. “If I were to guess, Lieutenant, you’re here to talk about the possibility of extending the armor mechanics into prosthetics science.”

 

A thin smile settled onto her face; she shifted so her weight rested on the dark plastic prosthetic. “Is it that obvious? I won’t deny there’s a bit of self-interest here—although I think that only makes it clearer why you should cooperate with me.”

 

“There’s nothing to cooperate about,” said Newt, but Vanessa and Hermann ignored him. Hermann knew it was petty, but it felt good to ignore Newt, if only for a moment; the other man was very good at ignoring Hermann. And Newt had started it.

 

“What Dr. Geiszler _means_ ,” said Hermann, in his best arch “this biologist means less to me than the bacteria growing on the bottom of my shoe” tone, “is that nothing is yet concrete. We’re still working on the early concept, and that is honestly only a side project while we wait for approval on other—matters,” Newt stiffened, and his eyes narrowed, “something to keep our hands busy, if you will.”

 

Vanessa rolled her shoulders in a graceful shrug. “It really doesn’t matter. Even the concept could be valuable to someone.” She paused. “I’ll be honest here. I’m desperate. I’m wringing the arm of every contact I’ve ever made in this position, and no one’s responding. The Jaeger program is dead in the water unless I can find something.”

 

Newt paused. His eyes slid to Hermann and narrowed again. Then he folded his arms across his chest and addressed Vanessa. “Anything?”

 

Hermann stepped forward. “No, no, no, _no_ —”

 

“Hey, fuck you, man, was I talking to you? The lady’s looking for something crazy, something to get people excited, and I have it, and—”

 

“What you _have_ is a crazy, half-suicidal idea that is going to—”

 

Vanessa cleared her throat—quietly. Both of them stopped; Newt turned a dark shade of red and pressed his cheek to his shoulder, and Hermann scowled.

 

“Perhaps I’ve come at a bad time,” said Vanessa at last. “It’s clear I won’t be finding what I need here.”

 

Hermann shook his head. “No, please, don’t—” Vanessa looked at him. He was reminded again how beautiful her eyes were and did not care for the reminder. “I have mock-ups. We can talk about the work I’ve done so far.”

 

“And completely ignore everything I’ve said,” said Newt, petulantly, “like always.”

 

Vanessa tossed her head. “Let me be clear here.” Both of them watched her speak; it was impossible not to, like it was impossible not to turn your face to the sun on the first day of spring. “I know how competitive scientists can be, but I am not offering myself up as a chip for you to use to—score points against each other.” Her eyes narrowed, revealing a quiet, controlled anger. “This is bigger than both of you. When one of you has a serious proposal, come find me. I’ll be in the Shatterdome for the next three days, unless I find something else that will work.”

 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; the anger disappeared, and she was cordial again, even though she did not smile. “I’ll just leave my card on your desk. Feel free to call me if you’d like to submit something.” She slid an elegant business card from the breast pocket of her blazer—both men stared at her hand; there was nowhere else to look in the whole world—and set it on Hermann’s desk.

 

She turned to leave. Again, both men watched her.

 

***

 

When the door shut behind her, Newt turned to his wall of specimens and pressed his hands to one of the yellow jars, frowning up at them. There was clearly something on Newt's mind, but asking would only trigger the argument again, and Hermann didn’t feel like it now. Their arguments were still sort of--pure, but it was spoiled now.

 

Scoring points? He picked up the card and turned it over. Had it been that obvious? Was it that obvious to everyone else?

 

His chest ached at his own foolishness—for trying to pretend other people didn’t know what had happened between him and Newt, and for offending a complete stranger because he couldn’t keep his emotions under control.

 

He tucked the card into the pocket of his vest and turned to face Newt’s side of the room. “Newton—”

 

“Oh, right, _now_ you call me by name,” Newt muttered.

 

“I was trying to be professional.” Hermann kept his voice neutral, even though his first instinct was to snap.

 

“God, how do you do that?” Newt demanded, whirling on him. Hermann frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean. One second, you’re all up in my face, screaming just as loud as I am, and the next you’re just—gone. It’s like—shit, does _anything_ matter to you?”

 

“I—what?” Hermann blinked. His mind finally pulled away from Vanessa and his embarrassment.

 

Newt pushed up his glasses and pressed his hands against his eyes. “You just—fucking Christ—”

 

Hermann took a step forward, almost crossing the line onto Newt’s side of the lab. “Are you—”

 

“Yes, I’m fucking crying, okay?” He wiped at his eyes furiously. “Shit, what do you expect? The fucking PPDC—and you—won’t get off my case about my work, everyone keeps dying, and then—and then we get into one bad fight and you just fucking... shut me down, and go on like nothing ever happened! I mean, did you _ever_ give a shit about me?” He let out a shaky breath. "I tried. I tried for so  _fucking_ long to make up for you, to act like it didn't bother me that you  _never_ told me how you feel, and I just... Jesus. I'm so tired of this." _  
_

 

He had to say something. He had to explain. He had to tell Newt he was dealing with the same problems, explain the anecdote about Vanessa and his physical therapy and his shame at treating such a person like an object. That he hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Six of them.

 

But there was so much he’d held back. So much he’d never said. Where was he supposed to start?

 

He licked his lips, trying to find some way to stall for time.

 

But Newt shook his head in disgust. He let his glasses fall back, ignoring the tear trails on his cheeks, and turned back to his specimens.

 

Anger flared in Hermann’s chest. “If you would just _wait_ one thrice-damned second—”

 

“No.” The word was flat and empty. “You just… don’t get it. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting. Not even for you to, like, open up—for you to treat me like a fucking adult. I’m a goddamn genius.” It was a statement of fact, not a boast. “My ideas are just as valid as yours, and I’m sick of you just—ignoring them all the time. You can have your fucking numbers and your fucking Breach idea. Just… leave me out of it.” He rubbed his face again, absently. “Shit, you can even have that woman if you want. I don’t care anymore. I _can’t_ care anymore. I’ve got work to do.”

 

Hermann’s throat closed up; his eyes stung. But Newt did not move away from his sample jars, so Hermann turned back to his blackboard and waited for the numbers to come back to him.

 

***

 

He turned the card over and over in his hands that night, until it was folded into nigh-incomprehensibility. Did he want to talk to her because he wanted to spite Newt, or because he thought he had a good idea and wanted someone else to tell him so? Or because of her eyes?

 

He couldn’t sort any of it out; it was a hopeless tangle in his mind.

 

He looked at his designs, at the comments scrawled in Newt’s untidy handwriting.

 

It was a good idea. It would work. He couldn’t just abandon it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermann pronounces it "left-tenant" because of course he does.


	10. Hermann's First Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt was still staring at him. His gaze felt like a hot coal pressed to the center of Hermann’s shoulderblades.
> 
>  
> 
> “What?” Hermann said, turning to glare back at Newt. 
> 
> Newt dropped his eyes. His hands clenched at his sides; Hermann thought he would say more, but he shook his head and walked back so the enormous model swallowed. “It’s good to know, I guess,” he muttered, raising his hands to turn the model. His face, burning with resentment and maybe embarrassment, appeared through one of the eyeholes. “You’re done. We’re done.”
> 
> Hermann’s first instinct was to insist he was only meeting with Vanessa for a professional matter, that it was very important to find different avenues of funding for the Jaeger program.
> 
> But he looked again at Newt, staring at him with eyes like a pot left on to simmer for too long, and rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Weren’t we already?”
> 
> Newt turned, abruptly, but Hermann did the same so he wouldn’t have to worry about the way Newt’s thin shoulders began to shake.

Vanessa was a busy woman. Even though Hermann called her only an hour after he woke up, when most of the Shatterdome was still buried in bed, it still went to voicemail, with a pause that suggested her inbox was nearly full.

 

He didn’t get a response for several hours; his phone went off when he was picking at his lunch, limp salad and sad tofu. He answered automatically, expecting Tendo telling him another Jaeger had fallen or the Marshal demanding results. Vanessa’s voice made him choke on his spinach. “Dr. Gottlieb?”

 

“Lieutenant Barsetti,” he said, thumping himself on his chest so he could catch his breath. Newt pulled his head out of a holographic model of a kaiju skull (something Hermann had helped him construct), frowning in Hermann’s general direction. Hermann ignored him. “What is it?”

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you earlier. I was in meetings all morning. I’d be happy to hear your proposal—when can you meet me?”

 

Hermann glanced at the tangle of calculations on his board and grimaced. Loath as he was to admit it, he hadn’t been getting any work done. His mind was running fast as honey on a cold morning.

 

Fluid mechanics. Hmm. Something to consider.

 

He shook his head. “At your earliest convenience, Lieutenant. I’m not occupied.” He glanced at his planner, open on the corner of his desk. “I do have a Skype meeting with Cherno Alpha’s team at six—her latest repairs have damaged her mainframe, and they need me to consult since I wrote her code.”

 

“Lucky for both of us, I’m free until dinner. Not much I can do now but wait for responses. Can you meet me in the mess hall? I want to grab something to eat.”

 

Hermann’s lips twisted. “You might regret it, Lieutenant Barsetti, but I’ll be happy to. Give me ten minutes.” It took him about seven to walk to the mess hall, but he wanted to allow for accidents. As the Jaeger program shrank, so did his access to good doctors and physical therapists, and his leg locked up more and more. He refused to admit it might have anything to do with stress.

 

“That’s perfect. Thank you, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, just as she hung up on him. He wasn’t sure if he felt that was rude or not; he tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jacket, slowly.

 

Newt was still staring at him. His gaze felt like a hot coal pressed to the center of Hermann’s shoulderblades.

 

“ _What_?” Hermann said, turning to glare back at Newt.

 

Newt dropped his eyes. His hands clenched at his sides; Hermann thought he would say more, but he shook his head and walked back so the enormous model swallowed. “It’s good to know, I guess,” he muttered, raising his hands to turn the model. His face, burning with resentment and maybe embarrassment, appeared through one of the eyeholes. “You’re done. We’re done.”

 

Hermann’s first instinct was to insist he was only meeting with Vanessa for a professional matter, that finding different avenues of funding for the Jaeger program was nearly as important as Hermann's research.

 

But Hermann looked again at Newt, who stared with eyes like a pot left on to simmer for too long, and rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Weren’t we already?”

 

Newt turned, abruptly, but Hermann did the same so he wouldn’t have to worry about the way Newt’s thin shoulders began to shake.

 

***

 

Vanessa was waiting for him at the door of the cafeteria. Today, she wore a blazer and skirt. One leg was covered in a knee-high stocking; she left the prosthetic bare. She stood perfectly still, and yet everything about her posture screamed of impatience, frustration: her hips and shoulders were set opposite ways, as though she were ready to run off at a moment’s notice.

 

“Lieutenant,” he said, holding out a hand to shake.

 

Her eyes snapped to his; Hermann almost flinched, the same way he couldn’t help but flinch when Marshal Pentecost turned his whole attention on him. “Did you say you wrote the code for Cherno Alpha?”

 

Hermann blinked.

 

Vanessa paused, and then she touched her lips, her mouth quirking up in a surprisingly soft smile. “Oh, damn, that wasn’t what I meant to say.” She cleared her throat. “I _meant_ to say—good morning, Dr. Gottlieb. Thank you for meeting with me.” She shook his hand. “Now I can say that. You wrote the code for Cherno Alpha?”

 

Hermann wanted to say yes, because it would impress her, and he usually said so to non-scientists, since the distinction between his work and what others had added was slight, in the grand scheme of giant robots fighting giant monsters. But it would skirt too close to lying, and that just seemed… impossible. “To be precise, I wrote the code for Brawler Yukon, which all other Mark I’s use.” He paused. “I’ve also written the base code for Marks II through IV. Not for V. Striker Eureka was an independent job.”

 

Was he babbling? It felt like he was babbling. He never babbled.

 

He couldn’t help it, though. Vanessa had gone still, as though she were rearranging beads on an abacus to draw conclusions only she could fathom.

 

Then she smiled again—still professional and courteous, but perhaps softer as well. “That’s fascinating, Dr. Gottlieb. I need to keep that in mind.” She gestured at the mess hall. “Shall we?”

 

“Please.”

 

***

 

Vanessa took a little bit of everything. Hermann took a chicken sandwich because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten protein.

 

“I have to admit,” she said as they took a corner table, away from the rest of the dome staff, “part of the reason I came here is because Hong Kong is an open port.” She bit into an apple with relish.

 

Hermann shrugged. “One must seize what comforts one can.” His food didn’t look as appealing. Not because he wasn’t hungry, but because he could still taste spinach in the back of his throat. He also didn’t care for eating in the mess, but he could hardly ask her back to the lab.

 

Oh, God, he hoped Newt would be gone when he came back. What was Hermann supposed to say? _I’m sorry I broke your heart even though you did the same to me?_

Vanessa began cutting her pork chop into bite-sized pieces. “I must have sounded like I didn’t do my research at all.”

 

Hermann blushed. She’d been speaking; he’d missed it completely thinking of Newt. “Pardon?”

 

“Oh. I said—I should have known you wrote the Mark I code. I think I heard about you years ago, when Karloff went down, but I should have looked into it now.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Your file is simply so—extensive. It’s hard to figure out where to start.”

 

“I’ve been with the PPDC in various capacities for nearly a decade, Lieutenant. Sometimes _I_ hardly remember everything I’ve done here.” That wasn’t a lie. Caught up in a problem, it was easy to forget he’d ever done anything worth remembering. There was only now, and the problems he couldn't solve, and the people dying every day.

 

She smiled. “Ah, yes, but it’s my job to know all your selling points so I can parade you before my clients.”

 

“Am I a showhorse?” said Hermann, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not good at playing nice.”

 

Vanessa shrugged. “That’s what I’m for. I live and breathe ass-kissing.”

 

Hermann had made the mistake of taking a bite of his sandwich; now he choked and had to find a delicate way to hack his lungs out. He grabbed his handkerchief and coughed into that. Vanessa watched him, her lips curled in a thin smile.

 

“I’m tempted to think you did that on purpose,” said Hermann, setting his handkerchief aside.

 

Vanessa raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t realize people still carried pocket handkerchiefs in this day and age. Guess you learn something new every day.”

 

Hermann wasn’t sure if he should be irritated or not. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, if only because she was going to hopefully find money for the Jaeger program. “May we talk about work now? I left academia for the PPDC because I was tired of making nice to people who couldn’t give a damn about me. I don't wish to think about it yet.”

 

Vanessa blinked, slowly. It might have been surprise on someone else. Had she forgotten what they were here to do? She shifted slightly; if her posture hadn’t already been a governess’s dream, she might have been straightening her back. “Of course. Did you have something to show me?”

 

Hermann slid out his notes and a small holographic projector. He was glad he hadn’t really eaten his sandwich. Unlike _some_ scientists he could name, Hermann did not touch technology without cleaning his hands. He tapped a few keys, and a projection of a limb appeared. “You can manipulate it however you like. I’d meant to build in a few important specifications into the projection, but—it fell to the wayside.”

 

“Well, you can tell me about it. I prefer hearing people talk to reading things off a screen any day.” Vanessa covered her fingers with a napkin and slid the projector over to her, studying the leg with interest. “What’s it supposed to be made of?”

 

“The same basic polymers as a pilot’s drive suit. Extremely durable, but light. It wouldn’t be much of an improvement if it was heavier than current prosthetics.” He smiled a thin sort of smile. “It can stand up to a kaiju attack. I think it could handle ordinary wear and tear.”

 

“And how does it connect? Airlock or a harness?” She wore an expression like she was filing things away; one hand turned the hologram restlessly.

 

“There’s the rub.” Hermann flipped through his notes, pulling up Newt’s sketch of the spine attachment. “The idea is to connect the wearer’s actual nerves to the limb and re-establish connections using this kind of technology. Perhaps even with this—there’s no need to re-invent the wheel.” Hermann sighed, flicking a different page over the sketch. Not because it wasn’t relevant. He just didn’t want to look at it anymore. He turned his face away, rubbing his temple. “But that was as far as we got. It was just an idea.”

 

“And, of course, both you and Dr. Geiszler aren’t actually medical doctors or engineers,” said Vanessa, her voice thoughtful.

 

“Newton has degrees in engineering and biotechnology,” said Hermann, without thinking. He caught himself and bit back a curse. Newt was the last thing he wanted to talk about. “But the neural connection isn’t his area of expertise. And I only understand it to the extent I need to to code the Jaegers.”

 

“Mmm.” Vanessa pulled his notes over to her, glancing at the sketches. “So what I’m hearing is a viable idea for an improvement in prosthesis technology—in fact, a direction things were moving in before K-Day. My investors will like that. They think if we build this damn wall, everything will magically reset to August ninth, 2013, and we can all just get on with our lives.”

 

“Oh, believe me, I understand that.” Vanessa arched an eyebrow. Hermann could have kicked himself. He set his hands in his lap, keeping his face blank. “In this business, one can hardly stay away from the believers in the wall. Especially now that we’re all being siphoned here, to Hong Kong. They think they’re winning, Lieutenant, and they can’t resist the chance to rub it on our faces.”

 

Vanessa smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was, in fact, the kind of smile that Hermann would not wish on his worst enemy. “Oh, I know. Believe me, Dr. Gottlieb. I know.” She glanced at his notes again. “Can you write these into a proper report for me? If I show them around, spin them right, we might just get somewhere.” She looked at the hologram again—almost wistfully. “If nothing else, I think it’s a good idea, and I’ve definitely got a better perspective on it than most.”

 

Curiosity filled Hermann’s heart; the words _what happened_ almost popped out of his mouth. But that was ridiculous. There were no words for how much he hated that question. Certainly she was the same.

 

So he just nodded. “Of course, Lieutenant. How soon would you like it?”

 

“Tomorrow at this time?” She glanced at her cell phone and nodded. “I’ll be free again, and you can walk me through the talking points, just to make sure I won’t mess anything up. I’m no scientist.”

 

Hermann ran through his schedule in his head, but it was a joke. Breaking up with Newt had opened a hole in his social calendar. “That would be fine, Lieutenant.”

 

She smiled and reached across the table for his hand. “It’s a date, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

Something about the steady pressure of her hand against his made him bold. Or perhaps stupid. He couldn’t tell the difference. “I believe I said to call me by my first name.”

 

She tilted her head to the side, her lips curling in a perfect semicircle. “But if I do that, then I have to say, ‘Oh, please, call me Vanessa,’ and I like that you call me ‘Lieutenant.’ Is that weird?”

 

“I like being addressed by my title as well. I’ve earned it, as I’m sure you have.”

 

That perfect semicircle smile remained. “Then we’ll stick with this. It’s good.” She inclined her head. “Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

He found himself smiling back. When had he started smiling? “Lieutenant Barsetti.”

 

***

 

When Hermann returned to the lab, Newt was not there. Hermann told himself he was relieved, and that it made things simpler, and that this was for the best. He believed it, more or less.

 

***

 

He spent the time he would have once spent sleeping working on a holographic presentation. The lack of concrete data frustrated him, but he had nothing better to do with his time since he had exiled himself from the lab at night.

 

***

 

At lunch the next day, Vanessa did not speak until she had read all the slides of his presentation. She read slowly, at a pace that made Hermann pick at his food. He’d forgotten that other people didn’t absorb information like air.

 

But when she finished, she finished. She set aside the projector and fixed him with a look that denied his ability to look anywhere else in the whole world. “This will work,” she said, her voice very quiet. “Not by itself, I mean. I’ve picked up a few other things that wouldn’t work by themselves either—but in combination…” She drummed her fingernails on the metal table. Her nails were cut short and painted deep red. “Yes. Give me some time, Dr. Gottlieb, and something will come of this.”

 

Hermann tipped his head to the side. “So have I actually got to start working on it? Because, frankly, I’ve got better things to do with my time.” A flash of numbers written across Newt’s back passed through his mind; he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This was a—pet project, that’s all.”

 

“I wear many hats at the PPDC. One of them is ‘creative accountant.’ Your time is your own, Dr. Gottlieb.” She paused. “I suppose there will be a reckoning when we come out of this alive—but then you’ll have the time to work on whatever project strikes your fancy.”

 

“And it had better be this one. I see.” Hermann sighed. Doubletalk. It was part of the job, but he tired of it.

 

She tipped her head and smiled that semicircle smile again. It made the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes perfect straight lines. “Well, speaking personally, I’d like it if you came back to this. It sounds like my dream come true.”

 

Hermann blinked. Sometimes he forgot how beautiful she was, and he wished he could do it all the time, because whenever he realized it again, it was a bit like a punch to the stomach. “Well. When you put it that way, Lieutenant.”

 

“Dr. Gottlieb.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa disappeared for a while after that. Hermann wanted to say he forgot about her, but that would have been a lie, just like it would have been a lie to say he did not wake in the night expecting to find Newt curled in the space between his side and the wall.
> 
>  
> 
> “Idiot,” he told the ceiling. “You broke one good thing already. Don’t give yourself the chance to do it again.” And he rolled over, away from the empty space in his bed.

Vanessa disappeared for a while after that. Hermann wanted to say he forgot about her, but that would have been a lie, just like it would have been a lie to say he did not wake in the night expecting to find Newt curled in the space between his side and the wall.

 

“Idiot,” he told the ceiling. “You broke one good thing already. Don’t give yourself the chance to do it again.” And he rolled over, away from the empty space in his bed.

 

***

 

A month passed. This time might not have seemed long, except that Hermann woke every day to an emptier Shatterdome. The K-science team had long ago become him and Newt, but the J-tech team was shrinking, too—Tendo had fewer and fewer minions to order around. The Jaeger deck held nothing but Crimson Typhoon. Marshal Pentecost was securing other Jaegers as their programs shut down, but it was a race against time. Time, and kaiju that were getting better and better at pulling pilots out of Conn-pods.

 

Hermann tried not to think about that. Instead, he worked on the model and his Breach plan, teasing out details of the kaiju yet to come from the nature of each event.

 

He told himself it was easier when Newt wore headphones instead of blasting his music, without Newt narrating everything as though Hermann were actually interested in kaiju dissection, without Newt asking him if he wanted to get lunch _every five minutes_.

 

He couldn’t decide if he was getting worse at lying to himself, and, if so, if that were a bad thing.

 

***

 

Hermann’s mobile hardly ever went off these days. Everyone was coming here, to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, so he was hardly farther than a walk down the hall. He barely recognized the ringtone when it did go off. He was in the middle of a long string of numbers; he barely heard the ringtone.

 

“Oh my God,” said Newt, from across the room. “If you don’t answer that _right this fucking second_ , I will answer it myself.”

 

Hermann blinked, coming away from his calculations with a blink of effort. Newt had answered his phone once. It would never happen again.

 

Scowling, Hermann went over to his desk and found his mobile. “Hello?” he said, fixing the desk with a glare that Newt said could freeze boiling water at ten paces. Hermann had always thought of it as a compliment. He was proud of his glares, and he wished he could share this one with whatever idiot was on the other end of the line.

 

The answer was a calm, “Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

“Lieutenant Barsetti.” Hermann was suddenly unsure if he regretted his gruff greeting or not. She _had_ interrupted him. He glared at everyone who interrupted him. Newt frowned; Hermann turned the glare on him until Newt went back to his work.

 

“I’ve had a few bites, Dr. Gottlieb,” said Vanessa. “Things are progressing well, but I need your help again.”

 

Hermann wondered if he ought to leave the room. Newt was ignoring him, but that meant nothing. Whatever had happened, Hermann didn’t wish to be cruel. But he glanced at the streak of kaiju blue on his side of the lab and decided against it. “Of course, Lieutenant. How can I help?”

 

“I’m warning you—I need a show pony.”

 

Hermann frowned. “I have important work to do, Lieutenant.”

 

“I know you do, Dr. Gottlieb.” Her voice was patient and perhaps—perhaps even a bit apologetic. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think this would pan out. And if I didn’t honestly need your help. I’m getting to the point where I can’t answer my clients’ questions anymore—they’re getting too technical, and I’m worried I’ll lose them.” She paused. “You could tell them about your Breach equation, too. I’ve got a physics think tank who might be interested in the frequency. Or something. I don’t understand much of what they say to me.”

 

“The equation is proprietary, Lieutenant.” He rubbed his forehead. “You’ve moved too far from your initial proposal—what, exactly, do you need me to do?”

 

“Fly up to Beijing for two days—transport arranged. I can get whatever kind of accommodations you need.”

 

“Unless you can get me a hotel room with a blackboard, I seriously doubt it.”

 

There was a smile in her voice. “I _meant_ for your physical needs, but I’m pretty sure I can get a blackboard for you if I ask nicely. You’d be surprised, Dr. Gottlieb.” She hesitated. “I’m trying to be considerate. I know what it’s like—going somewhere new, away from a place where they know what you need.”

 

Hermann thought of his initial placement in the Lima Shatterdome. No handholds in the bathroom. A shower too narrow for a chair. A bed slightly too high off the ground. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He felt—odd. He’d never had someone consider his needs before he had to bring them up. Best to change the subject. “Now what, precisely, would I be doing in Beijing?”

 

“No presentations or anything. Just a big fancy meet-and-greet. I introduce you to a few possible donors, you explain your ideas, field the questions I can’t. Show pony, like I said.”

 

“Mmm.” Hermann drummed his fingers on the desk. “Give me something more, Lieutenant. I’m not seeing enough reason for me to go there yet.”

 

“I wouldn’t have asked you for something so trivial if you weren’t my only option, Dr. Gottlieb. My other scientists have either declined, turned to the Wall—or, well, you know the last option.”

 

Hermann winced. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s a hazard of any job these days. I’m sure you have plenty to be sorry about as well.”

 

Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve all sacrificed much for this war, Lieutenant.” He let out a slow breath. “Two days. That’s counting the flight times?”

 

“Of course. I don’t fudge the facts to get people on my side.”

 

“How soon?”

 

“A week.” She let out a slow breath. “…I hope you won’t think I’m exaggerating for effect, Dr. Gottlieb, but this is important. There’s blood in the water. The sharks are circling.”

 

“They have been for years, Lieutenant. It doesn’t get to me anymore.” He sighed. “No, I’ll do it. Two days?”

 

“Two days.” Her voice grew warm. “Thank you, Dr. Gottlieb. Really.”

 

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

 

“I’ll send the flight details to your work email. See you in Beijing.”

 

“Yes.” She hung up without saying goodbye again. This time it definitely irritated him—but he’d learned he didn’t mind being irritated, hadn’t he?

 

He set his mobile aside, thoughtfully.

 

“Beijing?” said Newt. Hermann glanced over at him and regretted it; both of Newt’s arms were buried in a section of kaiju liver. It turned his stomach. “I’d say I hope to God you’re not defecting, but A) it would get you out of my lab, and B)—” he paused, prying something loose with a grunt of effort, “—maybe then someone would listen to me without you throwing your numbers at them all the time.”

 

Hermann bit the inside of his cheek, but the words came out anyway. “I will remind you, Dr. Geiszler, that I was here first. If this is anyone’s lab, it is mine. And second, no one’s going to listen to what you have to say if you don’t come up with an idea that doesn’t belong in one of your damn comic books.”

 

“ _Manga_ , oh my God, _manga_.”

 

“Yes, that is clearly the most important part of this discussion.” He rubbed his temples. The work in his mind was gone; he needed a break.

 

***

 

He ate lunch by himself in the cafeteria, flipping through the slides of his presentation. When he finished, he picked up a second tray and brought it back to the lab. Newt wasn’t there, but that was all right. He never left for long these days, and it was less awkward when Newt wasn’t there to see Hermann drop off the tray. Newt always looked at him like he was waiting for Hermann to explain himself, like there was some deep meaning to Hermann not wanting Newt to die of malnutrition. 

 

Whatever. It eased his mind in regards to their fight, and he could get back to work. 


	12. Racehorses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She and Hermann were the same height to an inch, and the nape of her neck smelled of lilacs. Hermann tried not to focus on either detail. He folded her jacket and draped it over the arm that held his cane.
> 
>  
> 
> “Here comes the show pony part, Dr. Gottlieb,” she whispered, keeping close to him.
> 
>  
> 
> In the next hour, Hermann met more new people than he had in the last five years. Vanessa knew all of them by name—with many, she even called them nicknames. She knew their occupations, their interests, the names of their partners and children.
> 
>  
> 
> Hermann followed in her wake. She introduced him to everyone, and he greeted them. At some point—always the right point—she would bring up his idea, and he would explain it in further detail, and answer questions, and act like he knew what he was doing. He felt like an ass, but he always felt like an ass at social gatherings. At least Vanessa seemed good at smoothing things over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for spotty updates. Have a long-ass chapter.
> 
> I hope to finish this fic over my break, since we only have three or four Vanessa-focused chapters left, and then we slam into the movie and all hell breaks loose.

Hermann had a proper suit tucked away, from back when the PPDC was respected and he needed to look good once in a while. The sight of the suit put a knot in his chest, as did trying it on and discovering it was loose around the middle and chest. When had he lost so much weight?

 

***

 

Setting his affairs in order was easier than he thought. The Marshal knew Vanessa—the thought of them in the same room, talking about Hermann, made Hermann nervous in a way that was, frankly, ridiculous—and told Hermann he could only come back if he got funding. Hermann knew he was joking, but it made him nervous anyway.

 

Hermann also didn’t have much to pack. He took pictures of all his work and put them on his tablet—he could use that to continue working, though he didn’t enjoy it. Then he erased everything on his blackboards. The only other step was to put all of the papers on his desk away in the drawer with a lock. He felt Newt watching him but said nothing.

 

“Are you going to lock up your blackboards, too?” Newt muttered at last.

 

Hermann wrinkled his nose. “No, but only because Tendo said he’d make sure you didn’t vandalize them.”

 

“I thought I got Tendo in the divorce.” The term made Hermann lift his head in surprise—he couldn’t read Newt’s voice. What was he playing at? But Newt was bent over his whiteboard, drawing. He wasn’t picking at the wound, then.

 

Hermann hesitated. He didn’t want to respond too quickly—it would be admitting he hated how much they fought these days, and that would be giving ground, and that would be unacceptable. Yet… “He’s your man through and through. He just has a healthy respect for old-fashioned equipment. Besides. I gave him the last of my coffee grounds.”

 

Newt growled. “That _slut_.”

 

Newt's tone was so like the times they lay together, talking after love, that Hermann could only drop his eyes and say nothing. The conversation hung heavy on his mind all the way to Beijing.

 

***

 

He felt ridiculous when he got off the plane, especially when he saw a limo driver holding up a sign with his name. The driver took him to a lavish hotel. Hermann’s room was on the first floor, and the shower had a built-in seat. Hermann used it.

 

When he walked out to get dressed, he noticed an object covered with a sheet in the corner. He dressed first. Then he indulged his curiosity.

 

It was a blackboard, the twin of his at the Shatterdome. A new box of chalk sat on the ledge, as well as an eraser still in the packaging.

 

Hermann realized he was smiling. He did not know what to do with it.

 

***

 

He tried not to feel ridiculous when he put on the suit, and he tried not to feel ridiculous when he got in the limo, and he tried not to feel ridiculous as he sat in the lobby and waited for Vanessa.

 

Then Vanessa arrived, and he could do nothing else. She wore a long black leather coat. The nondescript plastic prosthetic had been replaced by a light, beautiful, architectural construction, and her necklace, earrings, and bracelet looked like matching pieces of a sapphire set—real sapphires, not the kind grown in a lab.

 

Hermann got up, quickly, without meaning to. She walked over to him, one hand outstretched for a shake. Hermann resisted the urge to kiss her fingers instead. “Good to see you, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

“And you, Lieutenant.” She unbuttoned her coat and made to take it off. “May I—”

 

She turned her back to him without further prompting, and Hermann smoothed the jacket off her shoulders. Her dress was black and glittering, cutting across her collarbones in the front but cut low in the back. It stopped demurely at the knees.

 

She and Hermann were the same height to an inch, and the nape of her neck smelled of lilacs. Hermann tried not to focus on either detail. He folded her jacket and draped it over the arm that held his cane.

 

“Here comes the show pony part, Dr. Gottlieb,” she whispered, keeping close to him.

 

In the next hour, Hermann met more new people than he had in the last five years. Vanessa knew all of them by name—with many, she even called them nicknames. She knew their occupations, their interests, the names of their partners and children.

 

Hermann followed in her wake. She introduced him to everyone, and he greeted them. At some point—always the right point—she would bring up his idea, and he would explain it in further detail, and answer questions, and act like he knew what he was doing. He felt like an ass, but he always felt like an ass at social gatherings. At least Vanessa seemed good at smoothing things over.

 

“Shall we get something to eat now?” Vanessa asked, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Yes, please. I need some time out of the spotlight.”

 

“I’d think you would be used to it.” Hermann cocked a brow. “Well, you’re always being asked to present your research, aren’t you?”

 

Hermann shrugged. “Yes, but it’s always to people I already know. The Jaeger program isn’t enormous, and I’ve been there since the start. I know everyone. Out in the wider world—” He couldn’t find the words, so he shrugged again.

 

“Ah. All right. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Truth be told, I hate this, too—I shouldn’t have to beg for money for the only thing keeping us alive.”

 

“If only,” Hermann muttered.

 

***

 

Most of the tables in the dining area were occupied. As they paused, looking for an open seat, someone called, “Tiny math man!”

 

A beat later, in less accented English, “Hermann!”

 

Hermann turned, his surprise pleasant for the first time, and Vanessa grabbed his arm, hard. “You _know_ the Kaidonovskys?” she hissed.

 

“I worked on Cherno, so of course I do.” His lips twitched. “Would you like to meet them?” Vanessa’s answer was to squeeze briefly and let go. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

He walked over to the table. Sasha did not wear dresses; she wore a suit as immaculate and enormous as her husband’s. Both wore all ten rings, and Sasha had a lovely set of diamond earrings. “Ranger Kaidonovsky, Ranger Kaidonovsky,” said Hermann, nodding at each of them in turn. They grinned at him. Hermann grinned back.

 

“Will you sit with us, Hermann?” said Sasha. “We have space, and we have not seen you in so long.”

 

“I would be honored, of course.”

 

“Who is your lovely lady, tiny math man?” said Aleksis, turning to Vanessa.

 

She almost seemed shy. Hermann nudged her forward. “This is Lieutenant Vanessa Barsetti. Lieutenant, Aleksis and Sasha Kaidonovsky. Vanessa invited me here tonight.”

 

Vanessa extended her hand, apparently automatically, and Sasha shook it, smiling in a way that could only be described as lewd (although Sasha smiled at everyone like that). Aleksis kissed it, which, to Hermann’s complete surprise, made Vanessa blush. He pretended to cough so he could swallow his smile.

 

“ _Flirt_ ,” said Sasha,elbowing her husband, but cheerfully. “Sit, sit. We have much wine, and we should not drink it all ourselves.”

 

Hermann pulled out the chair beside Aleksis for Vanessa. She flashed him a smile, sweeping the skirt of her dress out from under her as she sat. Hermann sat beside Sasha, resting his cane on the edge of the table.

 

“Wine, Hermann?” said Sasha, taking the bottle from the center off the table.

 

“Unfortunately, I must decline,” said Hermann, lips twitching. “Painkillers.”

 

“Oh, but you are so much fun when you drink!” said Aleksis. “You unbutton your sweaters!” Sasha snorted. Vanessa looked at him curiously, and Hermann tipped his eyes up to the ceiling, asking for patience.

 

“And you, Lieutenant?” said Sasha, still holding up the bottle. “Shall you drink?”

 

“If we’re speaking of a competition, no. I’ve heard stories. But if it’s only a glass…” She was still blushing. And there was something about the tilt of her lips. Was she—? No, certainly not.

 

“One glass leads to two, but yes. Aleksis and I have been told,” she exchanged a disgusted look with him, “that we are not allowed to get drunk tonight. We must _behave_.”

 

“Which means no sex, either,” Aleksis sighed.

 

Vanessa, who had just taken a sip of the wine, coughed and nearly choked. Hermann passed her his handkerchief. “You see the company I keep? You would carry a handkerchief too.” She met his eyes over the cloth for a moment, smiling.

 

“I know, darling,” said Sasha, patting her husband’s shoulder. “They ruin all our fun.” She shook her head. “Stay here. We will bring food.” She and Aleksis walked off, hand in hand.

 

Vanessa turned to Hermann immediately. “What in God’s name just happened.”

 

Hermann chuckled. “That’s how everyone feels around them, I think. They are a force of nature.” He set his cheek on his hand. He was enjoying this more than was fair. “I take it you’re a fan?”

 

“You’re damn straight I am.” She took a drink of her wine, slowly, and looked at Hermann from the corner of her eye. “You know, I heard that the Kaidonovskys were— _open,_ but I never realized they were that kind of open.”

 

Hermann blinked. He realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. “They—like people, yes. Life is short and all that."

 

“I’ll have to remember that if all this works out and I get time to fool around again. Hmm.” Hermann tried to keep his eyes away from her, but she was looking him up and down. “You know the Kaidonovskys,” she repeated, her voice appreciative. “Guess I bet on the right horse.”

 

***

 

The Kaidonovskys made excellent dinner companions: they told the best stories, and they were just as disgusted by their presence here.

 

“We should be in Cherno right now. This is a waste of our time.”

 

“She’s still being repaired, isn’t she?” said Hermann.

 

Aleksis shrugged. “We should be with her all the same.”

 

“I thought working with the VA was bad enough,” said Vanessa. She’d had more than a glass of wine by this point: she’d taken out her earrings and was leaning forward over the table. “But hey—it’s gotten cool to be cowardly. I mean, when did that happen?”

 

Before anyone could respond, her phone went off. “Oh, God—I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” She grabbed her clutch and slipped away from the table, putting one earring in and then the other before answering the call.

 

Aleksis looked to Hermann. “So. Are you with her?”

 

Hermann blinked. “I—what?”

 

“Aleksis and I discussed this while we were getting food,” said Sasha. “We like her, and we would like to get _something_ out of this evening. But we do not wish to be rude. Unless, of course, you were looking for that sort of thing.” Sasha set her cheek on her hand. “So?”

 

Hermann cleared his throat, feeling a brush creep up the back of his neck. “No, of course not. Vanessa and I hardly know each other. I’m just her pet physicist.” He rubbed his cheek, trying not to think too hard about what was happening. “She, um, she wouldn’t be opposed, I think.”

 

Sasha smiled like a cat with cream on her whiskers. “Good. I am glad.” The smile became a smirk. “You could come too, if you like.”

 

“Sasha, I know that you are just saying that because you think I look ridiculous when I blush. You’ll hurt my feelings at this rate.”

 

Sasha laughed, but, thankfully, she changed the subject. When Vanessa returned, they were talking about Cherno’s repairs.

 

Vanessa touched Hermann’s shoulder. She stood straight and tall again. “One of my main donors is here now,” she whispered. “He wants to meet you.”

 

Hermann sighed. “One more introduction is hardly going to kill me, I suppose.” He got to his feet.

 

“You will join us again later, yes?” said Aleksis.

 

“We feel like we barely got to know you,” said Sasha, adjusting her tie.

 

Vanessa blinked, her face caught between professionalism and surprise. “Uh—”

 

“You’ll want to,” said Hermann, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped was a significant manner.

 

Vanessa blinked again. Then she smiled, carefully, at the rangers. “I’d be honored. I’ll need some way to relax after all this.”

 

“Oh, Sasha and I are very good at relaxing,” said Aleksis, squeezing Sasha’s shoulder.

 

Once she and Hermann were out of earshot, Vanessa looked at him. “Did that really just happen? I’m starting to wonder if I had more to drink than I thought.”

 

Hermann shook his head. “The Kaidonovskys are many things, but they are not dissemblers, Lieutenant. I believe you are on the mark.” Vanessa glanced over her shoulder again with an expression he could not read. He decided it was time to bring the conversation back to safer waters. “So who is this person we’re meeting?”

 

Vanessa let out a breath and picked up her composure. It was impressive to watch, like an actress preparing for a difficult role. “Well, there’s the rub. He’s the head of the think tank I was telling you about, but his condition for corresponding with me was that he remained anonymous. So this will be my first time meeting him, too.”

 

“Are you certain he’s legitimate?”

 

“Well, the check he sent me got you here, so…”

 

“Ah, of course.” Hermann sighed. “Well, I’ll try to be good.”

 

“That’s all I can ask for.” They headed out of the conference room and into the lobby. Vanessa led them to a set of doors painted with lotuses and knocked.

 

After a moment, a man stepped out to greet them.

 

Hermann stiffened. Vanessa looked between the two of them. Her expression remained consummately professional, but her mouth was tight.

 

He could hardly blame her for being surprised. The resemblance between Hermann and Lars Gottlieb was immediately obvious—of his siblings, Hermann was the only one who took after his father, so much so that people often said they were cut from the same mold. The thought always made the hairs on the back of Hermann’s neck stand up.

 

“Hermann,” said Lars with a smile that made Hermann’s hand clench on his cane. It was calm, unthreatening, as though they had spoken to each other last week instead of so long ago Hermann had stopped counting. “How good to see you.”

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” said Hermann, automatically holding out his hand. “Likewise.”

 

Lars shook Hermann’s hand, clasping it between both of his own. Hermann held his eyes grimly, but Lars just kept that smile. When he released Hermann, he turned to Vanessa. “Forgive me for this bit of subterfuge, Miss Barsetti.”

 

“She’s a lieutenant,” said Hermann.

 

His father glanced at him; Hermann did not drop his eyes. After a moment, Lars nodded and returned his gaze to Vanessa. “Of course. Lieutenant. Excuse me.” He put his hands behind his back.

 

“I understand why it was necessary, Dr. Gottlieb,” said Vanessa quietly. Her voice was calm, even pleasant, but her eyes were hard. Hermann thought of her first appearance in his lab and almost felt bad for his father—it was unwise to make Vanessa his enemy. “If I were one of the main architects of the Wall of Life, I wouldn’t want it known that I was in contact with one of the main liaisons of the Jaeger program and its principle physicist.”

 

“But I am not having any contact with the Jaeger program. I am merely trying to encourage my son as he moves away from that joke.” Lars looked back at Hermann. “Your research was fascinating, by the way. Not what I would have expected from you, but they say diversity is a virtue.”

 

Hermann scowled. “I have not and never will ‘take steps’ away from the Jaeger program. That project you saw could never have been possible without my involvement in it.” He leaned toward his father. “It was designed specifically to help injured pilots get back in the field—because we need them. Because they are the world’s only hope.”

 

Lars rolled his eyes. “Please don’t trot out the party line, Hermann. You’re above such things. Certainly you know better—look at where we are. The Wall of Life is taking shape on coastlines in every Pacific Rim country. And the Jaeger program? It’s falling apart. How is your K-science department these days? It’s just you and that damned biologist, isn’t it? How is that working out?”

 

Hermann’s eyes narrowed. “Very well, thank you. I’ll have you know that if I must die, I would rather do it with Dr. Geiszler at my side, yattering in my ear the whole time, than ever consider coming back to you to wait for my death.”

 

Lars’s mouth became a tight white line. “You are a genius, Hermann. The best and brightest of your siblings. But your intelligence will get you nowhere if it is not tempered by realism. Stop this now and come home.”

 

Hermann’s vision seemed to have narrowed to a single point, as it always did when he was talking to his father. “How _dare_ you.” He swallowed hard, trying to get his voice under control, and did not succeed. “How dare you refuse to accept my decision. And how dare you pull a third person int our disagreement because you cannot accept that I will not—fall into line like everyone else! I’d tell you to apologize, but I don’t think you know how, never mind how many languages you speak.”

 

Lars stared at him with narrowed eyes. Hermann stared back.

 

Vanessa took a step forward, drawing their attention to her. She extended one hand to Lars; he looked at it without responding. Vanessa took it in stride. “I’m sorry to hear you won’t be working with us, Dr. Gottlieb. I’d hate to take up any more of your time, since you have important work of your own to do. I don’t want to keep you from it.”

 

Lars shook hands with her, steeling his face back to stern acceptance. “Of course. I’d hoped we could work together, but I see that is impossible.” He nodded. “Hermann.”

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” said Hermann, nodding stiffly. Lars did not nod back.

 

Vanessa took Hermann’s arm and led him toward the exit. “There’s benches outside,” she said, her voice tight and her eyes fixed straight ahead. “I’d like to sit down, if you don’t mind.”

 

Away from his father, embarrassment swamped Hermann. He blushed. Outside, it was just cool enough to send a chill down Hermann’s back, but he didn’t care; it helped calm him.

 

When they were seated, he turned to Vanessa. “I’m so very sorry about that. My personal feelings are—much less important than the purpose of your work. I just destroyed something important to you.”

 

Vanessa looked at the street for a long moment. When she turned back to him, her face was set and hard. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This was my mistake. I never should have allowed an anonymous meeting—my job is to account for any problem that could occur in the situation and make it disappear.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I just… I thought this would work out.”

 

Hermann studied her. His voice came out… soft. “Even if you had known—who he was, you couldn’t have known just how… vehement our conflict is. We have not spoken in three years.”

 

“Then I should still apologize.” Vanessa turned to him and put her hand on his knee, apparently unconsciously. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think you would enjoy yourself tonight, but I was at least hoping to avoid any real awfulness.”

 

“Before that, you did very well.” Hermann glanced at her hand on his knee, wondering if he ought to set his own on top of it, and decided against it. “My father… my father and I simply have so much to disagree on.”

 

Vanessa let out a slow breath and brought both her hands to her lap. Her face softened. “I’d ask if you ever considered making up with him, but I know better. Some conflicts are better left buried.”

 

Hermann shrugged, uncomfortably. “I realized that my relationship with him was unproductive, so I ended it.” He hesitated. “I… I used to admire him. My father spearheaded the Jaeger program in the old days—he and I worked together on the design of the Jaegers, their programming… it was his name, even. But… then he changed. I don’t know why. I tried to make sense of it, but the figures never came out right, so I gave up.”

 

Vanessa nodded, lacing her fingers together on her lap. He could not read her expression; he was unsure if she was still uncomfortable or not. Was she thinking of her own conflict, whatever that was?

 

He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t. Instead, he tried to put some false bravado in his voice. “I tell myself I will rub it in his face when we win. It helps.”

 

She laughed softly. “I do the same thing, though not with anyone so close to me.” She leaned forward, resting an elbow on one knee. The other hand she used to rub the skin above her prosthetic.

 

Hermann realized he was staring at her long, delicate fingers and quickly looked away. “…Are you in pain?”

 

“I wouldn’t take that from anyone else,” Vanessa replied, “except that I know you know how it is. More or less.” She sighed. “Sometimes, yes. This thing looks pretty, and it makes me feel good, but it aches after a while. It’s not meant for long wear.”

 

“I hate that question, too, but it’s good to be asked now and again. Especially by someone who does know.”

 

Vanessa looked at him again, her fingers still working. Some of her hair had escaped her elaborate bun and spilled across the side of her face. “So… are _you_ in pain?”

 

Hermann smiled despite himself. “No, but only because I am so heavily laced with painkillers I will sleep the sleep of the dead tonight.” He traced the top of his cane. “…Usually, yes. It’s just the nature of my injury. And of my work. There’s not much time to look after yourself when you’re trying to look after the world.”

 

Vanessa touched his knee again. Had she moved closer to him? He wasn’t sure. “That’s a damn shame, Dr. Gottlieb.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “God, now I say that and I’m just thinking of him.”

 

“My father ruins everything. Trust me on this.” He glanced at her hand again. “…I never did thank you, by the way. For the room. Or the blackboard.”

 

Vanessa squeezed his knee, grinning just a little bit. “Nothing but the best for my racehorses.” She looked at him, and Hermann thought it would be very easy to close the distance between them and kiss her mouth.

 

Instead, he smiled at her. “Shall we go in? The night is cool, and I believe you have company waiting.” She slid her hand away. He got up and held his hand out to her.

 

She accepted it. Her fingers lingered on his. “You know—”

 

Then she laughed. “I must have had more to drink than I thought.” She slid her hand from his, only to set it on his arm. “Yes. Let’s go in.”

 

***

 

The engagement went on until well after midnight. Hermann met other scientists and had his first intelligent conversation of the evening. Vanessa left him to it, slipping through the crowd and talking to what seemed like everyone.

 

Finally, she returned to him. “Looks like it’s wrapping up. Shall I take you back?”

 

Hermann snorted. “No, you have company waiting. The last thing I would ever want to do is keep you from realizing your dream.”

 

Vanessa ducked her head, grinning in a pleasantly embarrassed way. “Well. We’ll see about that.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Good night, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

“Good night, Lieutenant.”

 

***

 

When he returned to the hotel room, Hermann found he could not sleep. He kept thinking of Vanessa’s hand on his knee, on the way she had looked at him before going to meet the Kaidonovskies, and it turned him over all queer inside. Which was… ridiculous. Even more ridiculous than his relationship with Newt had ever been. It seemed he could not but fall for the people most unsuited for him.

 

He gave up trying to sleep and picked up where he left off in Hong Kong, working until the first rays of dawn peeked through his curtains.


	13. Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann traced meaningless shapes on his desk. “…Shall you be needing anything else from me?”
> 
> Another pause. Hermann thought he might have heard regret in her voice, but he probably imagined it. “Not yet, I think. I was pinning my hopes on Beijing, but no one’s contacted me yet, and that’s never a good sign. I’ll… I’ll be in touch, Dr. Gottlieb.”
> 
> Ah, the classic sound of denied funding. Hermann sighed. “Of course, Lieutenant Barsetti.” He hesitated. “Good luck.”
> 
> “I make my own luck,” said Vanessa, and hung up.
> 
> Hermann wondered if they would ever have a conversation where she said goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long break in updates. I had plans to finish this fic over winter break, but my inability to go through with those plans brought on a nasty dry streak that I have just shaken off. On the bright side, I worked out the remaining plot details, so barring any serious issues there shouldn't be any more breaks.

When Hermann returned to Hong Kong, his blackboards had not been destroyed, but someone had drawn a one-fortieth scale picture of Yamarashi along the three front panels. When Hermann pulled the middle one aside, Gipsy Danger appeared, slamming into Yamarashi’s flank.

 

It was impressive, really, rendered in colored chalk and everything. Hermann took a picture before erasing it. The colored chalk he kept to throw at Newt.

 

***

 

Hermann expected a fight when Newt came in to work that morning, but he seemed to have something else on his mind, and it wasn’t even the brand-new kaiju retina resting in a tank behind his desk. He flipped songs while he took notes, a sure sign he couldn’t focus, and he didn’t even scowl when Hermann brought lunch.

 

Hermann wanted to ask, but he knew it was only because he wanted to keep himself from thinking about his time in Beijing. Not only was it foolish, but it would be callous of him to use Newt like that, no matter how much Newt seemed to like being used.

 

Newt huffed at last and shoved his plate aside. “So I gotta ask—did you find a magic pot of gold while you were inland or what?”

 

Hermann wrinkled his nose. “…No. It went poorly, if you must know.” He thought of his father and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lieutenant Barsetti hasn’t contacted me, which ought to be enough of a sign.” He hadn’t realized how hopeless the phrasing sounded until he said it out loud, and it gave him pause.

 

Not so Newt. “Not like I’m surprised, but it still sucks.” He sighed. “…I heard they’re shutting down the Vladivostok ‘dome.”

 

“I—what?” Hermann blinked. “But—I _just_ saw the Kaidonovskies. We just finished Cherno’s repairs. They did, I mean.”

 

Newt shrugged, chewing on his straw wrapper. “Well, what do they really have left? Sunset Eagle’s gone now—Cherno’s the only one there. And it’s not like a ton of people live in Siberia anymore.”

 

He had a point. And yet… Hermann rubbed his temples, trying not to fixate on the idea. This was a problem, certainly, but it wasn’t necessarily his problem.

 

***

 

And then it was his problem, because the Kaidonovskys ended up at the Hong Kong ‘dome.

 

On the entrance to LOCCENT, Tendo had a map of every ‘dome. The active ‘domes were marked blue pins, the closed ones with red. Hermann didn’t often pay it mind, but the day the Kaidonovskys arrived, he went over to stare at it, letting become part of him.

 

“It ain’t good, doc,” said Tendo softly. Hermann hadn’t even heard him come up.

 

Hermann shook his head. “It’s difficult to believe the Jaeger program has been in effect for less than a decade. It feels… so much longer.” He let out a breath. “I remember that I had a life before this, but I don’t remember what it was like.”

 

“Same, brother.” Tendo clapped him on the shoulder. “Try not to stare at it too long. It’ll do things to your head.”

 

Hermann nodded and let Tendo pass. Despite Tendo’s warning, he stayed for another five minutes or so, until he closed his eyes and saw nothing but the map. Then he left.

 

***

 

Life in the lab wasn’t normal, but only because Hermann still thought of normal as… well, as before. Maybe not even before when he and Newt were happy together.  _Before_. Before the Jaeger program fell apart. Before he stopped sleeping at night. Before he thought that kissing Newt could be anything but a fantasy.

 

But it was still… almost the same. He thought that perhaps some of the vitriol had left his fights with Newt—they still argued over every little thing, but they  _were_  little things. The precise decibel level of Newt’s music when he didn’t wear headphones. Whether Hermann throwing chalk counted as crossing onto Newt’s side of the lab. Which intern they missed the most.

 

It was… it was almost a truce, although no one else in the ‘dome seemed to notice.

 

Hermann was all right with that. He didn’t like the thought of anyone else in the ‘dome paying attention to his relationship with Newt. Before, it had been too personal. Now it was just embarrassing. The PPDC handbook said interoffice relationships were a bad idea for just this reason, and look at what he’d done.

 

Not that their relationship was functionally any different. He still got more work done than he ever had before meeting Newt.

 

But it wasn't like that mattered, either. He had data to show the higher-ups, but the shape of the Marshal’s plan bothered him more and more. Mostly because he’d crafted his data with certain Jaegers in mind. Of those Jaegers, only Cherno and Striker remained. Crimson Typhoon was supposed to be a back-up plan—nobody wanted to see the Crimson boys go down; they were like everyone’s children after five years in Hong Kong—and Gipsy Danger had disappeared from any of Hermann’s estimations on that awful day in Anchorage. (Her lack of a copilot was another variable Hermann refused to add to his equation.)

 

But. In any case. Nearly normal, in such a way that sometimes he woke up and couldn’t remember what year it was. Was he really nearly forty? When had he gotten so many lines around his eyes? When was the last time he smiled?

 

***

 

Vanessa called the next day. Her reception was spotty, and her voice was difficult to hear. “Sorry about the lack of contact, Dr. Gottlieb,” were her first words. Hermann wondered if she’d ever learned how to say hello. “I had to get on a plane right away in the morning. I’m back in the San Fran ‘dome right now.”

 

Hermann swallowed. “That’s still open, isn’t it?”

 

“For now,” she said softly. “But with Brawler and Romeo gone, it feels… empty.” She let out a breath. “That was _not_ what I wanted to call you about. Good news only.”

 

“I don’t mind realism, Lieutenant,. It stares me in the face every day. Numbers cannot lie, after all.”

 

Vanessa sighed. “I deal with the same thing. Nevertheless, it is my job to try and make things better. And I am trying.” She let out a breath.

 

“Is it going well?” Hermann asked, not because he thought it was, but because he thought she wanted to talk about it. Because perhaps he wanted to hear her talk about it.

 

Vanessa didn’t answer at first, which was all the answer Hermann needed. But her voice was resolute. “I’m working on it. And I’m not giving up until they make me leave.”

 

Hermann traced meaningless shapes on his desk. “…Shall you be needing anything else from me?”

 

Another pause. Hermann thought he might have heard regret in her voice, but he probably imagined it. “Not yet, I think. I was pinning my hopes on Beijing, but no one’s contacted me yet, and that’s never a good sign. I’ll… I’ll be in touch, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

Ah, the classic sound of denied funding. Hermann sighed. “Of course, Lieutenant Barsetti.” He hesitated. “Good luck.”

 

“I make my own luck,” said Vanessa, and hung up.

 

Hermann wondered if they would ever have a conversation where she said goodbye.

 

***

 

Vanessa called once in a while, not at any frequency Hermann could predict. Her calls were incredibly long-distance; Hermann imagined the sloshing of ocean waves beneath each syllable and wondered if he was really imagining it. They were satellite calls, but still.

 

Her calls were always the same: brief, depressing, and salutation-less. But at least they kept coming.

 

***

 

Then they didn’t.

 

***

 

After a month of radio silence, Vanessa contacted him again. “Dr. Gottlieb,” she said, almost hesitantly. It was the closest thing he’d ever gotten to a “hello.”

 

“Lieutenant,” said Hermann, leaning back in his chair. “I was getting worried.”

 

She didn’t speak for a long moment.

 

“Lieutenant?” said Hermann, glancing at Newt’s side of the lab unconsciously. But of course Newt was out—it was dart night. “Can I help you with something?”

 

Another long pause. This time, Hermann did not break the silence. He had a number of suspicions, but he was afraid to voice them lest he bring something bad down on both their heads. “I just…” Vanessa let out a breath. Hermann’s list of variables shrunk. “I wanted to thank you for working with me.”

 

Hermann blinked. He wondered if he needed to revise his list of variables—unlikely. “I… Of course.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “…Is something wrong, Lieutenant?”

 

She let out another slow breath. “I’m about to lose my job, Dr. Gottlieb. Nothing’s coming up, nobody’s responding, and the PPDC is closing ranks. I’m getting shut out.”

 

“So come here,” Hermann said, without thinking. Vanessa didn’t respond. He thought he could feel the intensity of her stare through his phone. He cleared his throat. “To Hong Kong, I mean. With the last vestiges of the Jaeger program. You’ve met Marshal Pentecost, yes? He’s looking for people like you.”

 

“Cast-offs?” said Vanessa, her voice rich with bitterness.

 

“The best of the best,” Hermann corrected her. “That’s why I’m here. I would have lost my job with the rest of the K-science division years ago, but the Marshal forced the higher-ups to keep me. And Dr. Geiszler.” He paused. “…You’re a very talented woman, Lieutenant. Marshal Pentecost will appreciate that, and he’ll know a good place for you.”

 

“…I don’t like charity, Dr. Gottlieb. I got this job because I have a pretty face and a built-in sob story. And I know that. I’ve accepted it. I work as hard as I can, but… it’s getting difficult. To keep up the act, I mean. To prove everyone wrong and have faith in this program—in all of us.” She drew in a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth bothering.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” said Hermann, digging his fingers into his thighs.

 

Vanessa swallowed. “No, I don’t. I’m just… in a bad place right now. I mean—I’m telling you this. You don’t need my problems. God. I am a mess right now.” She hesitated. “Thank you for the tip, though. Maybe I’ll follow up on it when I’m not busy drowning my problems in cheap booze.”

 

“Pentecost will take you, Lieutenant,” said Hermann, with more confidence than he felt about the matter. “He sees the truth of everyone.”

 

“At least someone does.” Vanessa hung up on him.

 

He thought about calling her back, but he didn’t want her to know—what? That he cared what happened to her?

 

Look at where that had gotten him so far.

 

He hit the dialback button.

 

“Vanessa,” he said, talking over her for once. “Come to Hong Kong. There’ll be a place for you here.”

 

“When you say it like that, I almost believe you,” said Vanessa. “I’ll think about it. Really, I will. I… thank you. For listening.”

 

“You’re very welcome,” he said, soft as a sigh.

 

This time, he hung up on her, if only because he didn’t trust himself to sit there and listen to her breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In about four or five chapters, we'll be to the movie, so that's exciting. :D


	14. Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door opened at once, which made Hermann stumble back. Vanessa looked out at him, surprised. She wasn’t dressed for sleep either; her only concession to the other seemed to be exchanging her heels for bare feet. “It’s you,” she said.
> 
> “I’m sorry. You were expecting someone else.” Hermann backed away, happy to take the excuse so he could shake off the ridiculous way he felt and finally get some sleep.
> 
> “No, I—” She glanced down the hallway and shook her head. “I’m just having a hard time believing you’re actually here. Why don’t you come in?”
> 
> Hermann almost demurred, but the sight of her—curls loose, jacket unbuttoned, earring-less—tugged at something in his heart, and so he nodded stiffly. She stepped aside to let him in; her eyes were weights on his back.

Hermann did his best to forget about that conversation, because it was really the only proper course of action. Her business was none of his business; she regretting the phone call. After all, they hardly knew each other, and most of that knowing depended on a relationship that was no longer existent.

 

And he was busy. Marshal Pentecost’s efforts were moving along right on schedule, which meant that Hermann's plan was moving along right on schedule—a fact that never failed to make him nervous, especially since that was the only real thing he and Newt ever still fought about.

 

“I mean, honestly,” Newt said one day. “You’re a fucking numbers guy. You should know the statistical uncertainty is just way too high.”

 

He stormed out of the lab before Hermann could tell him he was right about that.

 

***

 

He and Newt were in the middle of another argument—this one about Newt’s specimens and why they got to take up so much more space than Hermann’s computers—when someone knocked on the doorframe.

 

It was almost like that first day again. Hermann and Newt turned to the newcomer, ready to harass them for interrupting a good quarrel, and then neither of them spoke because it was Vanessa. Newt’s eyes narrowed, so Hermann decided to take control of the conversation. “Lieutenant Barsetti,” said Hermann, getting to his feet. “What a pleasant surprise.”

 

“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,” said Vanessa, tipping her head to him. There was a sparkle in her eyes that Hermann liked—something good had happened, he hoped. “Do either of you have a copy of your last research report on hand?”

 

“He does,” said Newt, as though it were an insult to imply that Hermann kept copies of every publication.

 

“So do you,” said Hermann, though he was already moving back to his desk.

 

“No I don’t!”

 

“It’s there, underneath your disgusting model of Kaiceph,” said Hermann, pointing to what had once been Newt’s desk and was now “Newt’s receptacle for everything that might be vaguely important.”

 

Newt huffed and walked over to it, removing the little figurine. “Oh. Well, I don’t need it, so you can have it, I guess.” Hermann made an irritated noise. “I’ve got the PDF, Jesus, Hermann. Paper is overrated.”

 

Hermann shook his head. “I’d be careful with that if I were you,” he said to Vanessa. “You don’t know where it’s been.”

 

Vanessa shrugged, tucking the paper into an accordion folder with the PPDC logo. “I’ll take my chances. Thank you, gentlemen.”

 

Hermann almost called after her to ask if she had taken his suggestion, but he thought better of it since Newt was making faces at his back. “That’s beneath someone with as many doctorates as you possess, Newton. Try something else for a change.”

 

Newt blew a raspberry. Hermann paid it no mind.

 

***

 

Questions of Vanessa kept Hermann from his numbers, so he went to get lunch instead and ended up staring blankly at the food options. No wonder Newt had to be prompted to eat.

 

He started back for the lab, but something caught his eye. Vanessa was seated at one of the back tables, picking at chicken salad with one hand and swiping at a tablet with the other. Hermann stared. Then, shaking his head, he walked to her table.

 

She looked up when Hermann set down his two trays. “Hungry?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

 

“One is for Dr. Geiszler,” said Hermann. “We have an agreement. He stays away from my work, and I make sure he ingests something that isn’t loaded with chemical sweeteners and caffeine at least once a day.”

 

“The two of you have co-authored a lot of papers." Hermann frowned, unsure where she was going with it. “I read that report from Newt, and I got curious. You’re prolific.”

 

“Dr. Geiszler is prolific. I hate to see him smear bad science everywhere, so I force him to listen to me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Exactly _why_ are we talking about Dr. Geiszler?”

 

“Sorry. Terrible lead-in again. I just can’t seem to say things like a normal person when I’m talking to you.” Hermann blinked at that, but Vanessa set down her fork and closed her tablet in a businesslike way. “I’m going to be blunt, and it’s going to be awkward, but I know from experience that this is the best way to deal with it, so… bear with me.” She let out a breath. “Is there anything going on between you and Dr. Geiszler?”

 

Hermann stared at her for a beat. Newt had been right—nobody assumed that two men couldn’t be interested in each other anymore, and everyone seemed to think all their arguing had to be a front for something instead of a natural consequence of two very different people working in a very small space. Hermann denied such claims without a second thought.

 

But prevarication would get him nowhere with Vanessa. He cleared his throat, staring at the limp lettuce on her plate. “No. Not… not any longer.”

 

Vanessa nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

Hermann leaned back in his seat, setting both hands on top of his cane. “Now would you kindly explain why that’s any of your business?”

 

Vanessa dipped her head. “It isn’t.” Her voice was embarrassed, which was odd enough in itself. What she said next just made it a thousand times worse. “It’s just…” She lifted her head, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear. “I find myself in an interesting position.” She huffed and glanced away. “God, I feel like I should make notecards whenever I talk to you—I swear I can remember things better for other people.”

 

Hermann thought about reassuring her, but the questions about Newt had made him nervous, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. So he just watched her without speaking.

 

Vanessa cleared her throat. “Bear with me. This will take explaining. Can you put up with that?”

 

“You’ve done enough to earn my trust. I know you will bring this somewhere meaningful eventually.” He hoped it sounded disinterested, but he doubted it. He was no good at it.

 

“Good.” Vanessa favored him with a smile so calm and warm that Hermann had to drop his eyes. “Now. First of all, I took your advice. I’m a liaison for Marshal Pentecost now—I talk to all of the people he’s sick of. Which is basically my old job, but now I answer to someone I respect.” She carded her fingers through her hair. “And I was… thinking about my situation. My working relationship with you came with a number of restrictions.”

 

Hermann’s eyes narrowed. He thought perhaps he knew where this was going, but he didn’t want to presume, especially because he knew from experience that he was going to make an ass of himself. More importantly, he wasn’t sure how he felt. Thinking about Vanessa in a hotel room in Beijing when she was going home with someone else was one thing. Thinking of her here, where Newt—and anyone else in the base—could see was… quite another. Oh, Lord.

 

“But now that we’re no longer working together as client and go-between, those restrictions have… dissolved.” She paused, apparently to gather herself. “So… that’s why I asked. I wanted to see if there was anything else in the way. I wouldn’t want to interfere with any of your standing relationships—or even one of your standing interests.” She raised her eyebrows at him, as though allowing him to step in and admit if he hadn’t been truthful.

 

Hermann frowned. It was not a very forceful frown, but it was a frown all the same. “Anything else in the way of what, precisely? Please define your terms, Lieutenant Barsetti.”

 

She smiled at him, carefully. It was nothing like Newt’s. Newt’s smile took over his whole face—it took over the whole _room_ , demanding attention the way the sun peeking through clouds demanded that you turn your head up to look. Vanessa’s smile was calm, and composed, and very self-aware.

 

But at the same time, her smile was everything like Newt’s, because Hermann couldn’t look away from it. It was the whole world.

 

“I’m impressed by you,” she said, lacing her fingers together as though they were talking about a business merger instead of—feelings. “I’ve known that since we met, but I couldn’t express it since we were in a business relationship.” She tilted her head. “I was wondering if you would like to make that into an ordinary relationship instead.” 

 

Hermann was aware that his mouth was open, and so he closed it. He was not aware of much else, because she was still smiling at him cautiously.

 

She was waiting for an answer.

 

Hermann swallowed, looking down at his hands which still rested on top of his cane. “I’m not sure that that is wise, Lieutenant. It isn’t… it isn’t because such things are beyond the realm of my imagination.” Her lips twitched at that. "It would simply be… foolish. Believe me.”

 

Vanessa set her chin on her hand, her eyes narrowing as though she might argue. Then she raised one shoulder in a shrug that was not quite as casual as it tried to appear. “Well, that’s your judgment call to make. I just thought I would put the offer out there. You know how it is.” She shrugged again; this time, it _was_  casual. “So. How’s your work?”

 

Hermann looked down at his food, unsure what to do with the change in subject. He let out a slow breath. “It’s… depressing, but it always was.” He swallowed. “You?”

 

She shrugged. “It’s good. I like working with people who are serious about this as I am—everyone in the PPDC proper has already written off the Jaeger program, and I'm tired of it.” She huffed. “Enough of that. It’s depressing. What do you lot do for fun around here?”

 

***

 

Vanessa had lunch with him every day that week, which was bizarre not only because Hermann wasn’t used to having a lunch partner but also because she didn’t bring up her original topic of conversation at all. At first Hermann wondered if she was embarrassed, but she carried herself with such poise that it was impossible to tell.

 

As for Hermann, he couldn’t seem to get it off his mind, in fact—mostly because he couldn’t decide how he felt. Was he serious about Vanessa, or had she just been a fantasy? Certainly he wasn’t looking for anything from Newt any longer. So why was he holding back?

 

The questions chased each other around in his head when he was trying to sleep. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than lying awake thinking about the end of the world.

 

***

 

His indecision was because he didn’t have enough information. When it came to Vanessa, there were simply too many variables. He knew next to nothing about her—private and contained seemed to be her modus operandi.

 

He told himself it was none of his business. If she had wanted him to know anything about herself, she would have told him. But at the same time, he found himself looking for the information anyway. Since she was the Marshal's aide, he saw her more often than he would have liked.

 

The information he gathered was not good for his state of mind. She was infinitely charming, collecting names, likes, and dislikes the way Newt collected kaiju trading cards. She spoke little in professional conversations, but when she did, everyone listened. And she never seemed to miss a post-deploy party.

 

“You certainly don’t have any trouble making friends,” he said to her one day at lunch. Not because the situation led to it, but because he couldn’t stop himself. “I can’t understand why you would spend this time with me. Isn’t there someone else?”

 

Vanessa looked up in surprise. “What, to eat lunch with me?” She blinked, looking confused, and Hermann felt bad for bringing it up in the first place. “I mean… yes?” She cleared her throat and set down her fork. “You’re—economical, and I appreciate that. Everyone else around here likes the sound of their own voice too much.” She looked back down at her food. "It's... nice. Having you all to myself."

 

Hermann looked down at his food, thinking of Newt talking his ear off and also thinking of Vanessa’s confused but pleased expression. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he didn’t know what question to ask to get to that answer.

 

***

 

The next evening, Crimson dropped and successfully defended the bay against a kaiju, whose official name Hermann never learned because Newt insisted on calling it “cutie snoo." It was quite late at night, but he stayed up in LOCCENT until the kaiju was dead—every time one of the Jaegers went out, he remembered it was one of the last, and that the triplets were part of a dying breed. 

 

After the attack, Hermann tried to go back and get some rest, but his mind refused to shut off. If it wasn’t chasing his latest data back and forth, it was replaying the several instances where Crimson almost died. Or thinking of comebacks he could have used in his last argument with Newt.

 

Or… well…

 

Hermann sat up, rubbing his forehead. He hadn’t bothered to get undressed, which was why he was even giving credence to his ridiculous idea. And yet…

 

It wouldn’t hurt to see if Vanessa was still awake (and sober). It was only two hours past the attack—most of the base would still be moving around, either partying with the boys or seeing to the work that had to be taken care of after a kaiju attack. She was almost certainly gone, and if she was, he could shake off this foolishness. Maybe walk back to the lab and get some more work done, since Newt was out having fun with Tendo and the rest of the LOCCENT crew. (Newt couldn’t speak a word of Cantonese, and the LOCCENT crew couldn’t speak English, but they seemed to get on well enough anyway.)

 

He let out a slow breath, put his shoes back on, and walked down the hallway to Vanessa’s quarters. He stared at her door for a moment before knocking. He almost turned and walked away, but then he called himself for a coward and rapped just above the door handle, where it made the least noise.

 

The door opened at once, which made Hermann stumble back. Vanessa looked out at him, surprised. She wasn’t dressed for sleep either; her only concession to the hour was exchanging her heels for bare feet. “It’s you,” she said.

 

“I’m sorry. You were expecting someone else.” Hermann backed away, happy to take the excuse so he could shake off the ridiculous way he felt and get some sleep.

 

“No, I—” She glanced down the hallway and shook her head. “I’m just having a hard time believing you’re actually here. Why don’t you come in?”

 

Hermann almost demurred, but the sight of her—curls loose, jacket unbuttoned, earring-less—tugged at something in his heart, and so he nodded stiffly. She stepped aside to let him in; her eyes were weights on his back.

 

Her room was arranged in a configuration Hermann recognized, though it took a moment to realize why. It, like his own, was set up so that Vanessa always had a ledge to grasp. She could walk from the bed to the bathroom in the middle of the night without having to replace her prosthetic.

 

She gestured at the office chair beside her desk. “Please, sit down.” She sat on her bed, smoothing her hands over her skirt.

 

Hermann obeyed, if only because it gave him an excuse to look away from her face for a moment. He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from your rest.”

 

Her mouth twisted to the side. “If it wasn’t obvious that I wasn’t sleeping, then either you are not very observant or you have a very strange idea of what I wear to bed.” She rapped her knuckles on her prosthetic knee with a tight smile.

 

“Oh, of course.” Hermann pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

 

Vanessa stretched her arms over her head. Hermann averted his eyes because they were drawn to the perfect right angle where her neck met her shoulders. “Well, I’ve got nothing but time for you to figure it out. It’s not like I was getting any work done.”

 

Hermann let out a slow breath. “It’s…” He put the tips of his fingers together and decided to just—say it. He disliked artless speech, but it seemed that caring for anyone tied his tongue in knots. And keeping his mouth shut was what had gotten him in trouble the first time. “I feel like you haven’t got an accurate picture of me, that’s all. We’ve gotten—friendly, yes, but all you’ve seen is my professional side, and maybe… that’s why…” He gestured between them.

 

Vanessa tipped her head to one side, considering him. She had washed her face clean of makeup. It left her looking softer than usual. “Well, then, what pieces am I missing?”

 

Hermann let out a slow breath. Then, finally, it came out in a rush. “You don’t know what it was _like_ between me and Newton. I mean, yes, you’ve seen us fight, but that’s not—” He sighed. “That wasn’t the truth of us. I cared for Newton more than I have for anyone in my whole life, and I still couldn’t…” He broke off, looking away. “It didn’t make a difference, in the end. And look what it came to—all that love and all that time, and we can’t be in the same room for more than a few minutes without trying to rip each other apart. I wish I could have done right by him, but all the wishing in the world doesn't change the fact that I couldn't.”

 

Vanessa was silent. She crossed her whole leg over the prosthetic, drumming her fingers on the inch of skin exposed above her knee. “And what about you?” she said at last. “What did it leave you with?”

 

Hermann rubbed his cheek. “Regrets. A fresh knowledge of my own stupidity.”

 

Vanessa nodded. “…Have you ever told Newt any of this?”

 

Hermann smiled ruefully. “No, and that’s the problem.” He looked over at her again, finally. Meeting her eyes was a challenge, but he figured he owed her. “I could never… despite what the shouting might suggest, I have always had a difficult time telling Newton what I truly think of him. That’s where it all started, I think. And I just…” He sighed again. “I just don’t want to waste your time when I’m worried it’ll all end up in the same place. You’re a lovely woman, and I’d rather—preserve what we have. I’d just muck up anything else.”

 

Vanessa looked to the wall. “What about Newt?” she said, running her fingers over the hem of her skirt. Hermann made a questioning noise, and she turned back to him, her eyes bright and focused the way they were whenever she talked about work. Hermann wondered if he had really reckoned on what he was getting into. “How were his communication skills?”

 

“Better than mine, at least where feelings were involved. Staying in one place didn’t do well for him, though.” He bit his lip. “That’s another reason I have—reservations, Lieutenant. I’m not… it’s hard to gauge just how much he’s moved on, and I don’t want him to think I’m… rubbing it in his face.”

 

“Mmm.” Vanessa uncrossed her legs and put her palms flat on the bed, looking at him with a directness that made him want to fidget. “So I’m hearing two main issues. First, you’re worried about your lack of communication skills. Second, you’re worried about hurting Newt more than you already have. Both of those are valid concerns.” She put her hands in her lap, her expression softening to something less terrifyingly confident. “I suppose I’m left wondering why you came here in the middle of the night to tell me this.”

 

Hermann opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked down at his knees, at his cane tucked between his legs. At last he said, quietly, “I just wanted you to know--it isn’t because I don’t want... something. But I'm excellent at hurting the people I care about. As you’ve seen, it runs in the family.”

 

“Given your apparent role models, I couldn’t imagine why,” said Vanessa, pushing her fingers through her hair. She huffed in disgust, her hands curling into fists. “I don’t know what to tell you, Hermann. I know better than to try and give advice to the people I like. It… it ends badly. And I want--I do want you, and that is fooling with my ability to think clearly."

 

“That’s something the two of us have in common.” He looked at his feet. “No, you’re right. You don’t know what I’m doing here, and I don’t know what I’m doing here. That’s no good.” He got up, holding on to the side of her desk because he didn’t trust his legs.

 

“No, I—” Vanessa bit back whatever else she was going to say, but Hermann raised his eyebrows at her, and Vanessa let out a slow breath. “I was going to say that I didn’t want you to go, but that would be… stupid. Really, really stupid. You should go. It would be better for both of us.”

 

He wanted to tell her differently—say something sweeping, romantic. But he couldn’t decide if he wanted to tell her so because it was true, or because he wanted to believe he still had love inside him.

 

And that was the answer, in the end. He’d fallen into bed with Newt telling himself he wanted nothing more than sex, and look where that had ended up. He didn’t know what he wanted from Vanessa, and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

 

He got to his feet, feeling useless and strangely cruel. “You’re right. I’ll leave.”

 

Vanessa turned her face away and only spoke just as Hermann was closing the door. “Good night, Hermann.”

 

“Good night, Vanessa.”

 

***

 

When he got back in his own room, he closed the door and leaned against it for a while.

 

***

 

Vanessa continued to meet him for lunch, although he thought the quality of their conversation dropped. It was probably his own fault. She started seeing one of the American J-Techs, someone Hermann had mentored at the San Francisco ‘dome.

 

To his surprise, Hermann was not jealous of this. He had no right to be, of course, but that had never stopped him whenever Newt fell into bed with someone, before or after their relationship.

 

Hermann did not waste time puzzling over this, though. It meant he could be a good friend instead of a bad lover, and he appreciated that, because he didn’t have many friends anymore. Too many of them had died.

 

And, anyway, the war was ramping up. He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters and we get to the movie!


	15. Vanessa's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For heaven’s sake,” said Hermann. “It’s three in the morning. Come in or leave me alone.”
> 
> The door opened. It was Vanessa. She wore no makeup or jewelry; her brow was furrowed, as though she were trying to decide how upset she was. “Can I come in?”
> 
> Hermann felt foolish and awful. He tried to swallow and realized his mouth was dry. “Um—”
> 
> “Can I sit?” She gestured at his bed, still neatly made from that morning.
> 
> Hermann nodded. Was this how she felt when he came to her room? Like everything that made sense in their relationship had been stripped away, and they were left with anarchy? That night already felt like months ago. He’d been so focused on filing away his feelings for her, just as he had with Newt. Seeing her here was like being interrupted in the middle of a calculation.

Hermann knew the more frequent attacks on Hong Kong Bay were also inevitable, merely a side-effect of more attacks overall. Yet the dark, superstitious part of his mind insisted the kaiju knew where the last Jaegers hid and were searching the pilots out.

 

The triple event had been horrifying enough as a series of numbers on Newt’s back. Now it grew closer and closer every day, solidifying like an icicle.

 

He woke, often, in the middle of the night, and had to go back to the lab, convinced he’d calculated wrong. That the double and triple events were tomorrow instead of still months away. He was always incorrect, but checking was necessary, almost a prayer.

 

Newt caught him at it half the time, but for once he said nothing about it.

 

***

 

No one in the ‘dome could sleep while the Weis were out fighting. Hermann worked until his eyes crossed. Then he gave into his desire. Usually, he would have gone to LOCCENT to watch the fight, but Newt was up there, and during such a tense night they would certainly argue, and Pentecost would exile them both, and Hermann would have one more thing to feel guilty about as he tried to fall asleep.

 

Instead, he went to the mess hall. There was a TV for just this purpose, so that those on their breaks could sit in silence and watch.

 

Vanessa was near the back. In front of her was a miniature hologram projector displaying a document, but her eyes were on the TV. Hermann came to stand beside her. She let out a breath. “I told myself I wasn’t going to watch because there wasn’t anything to worry about, so paying attention would be admitting otherwise. But…”

 

“But there’s always reason to worry,” said Hermann, settling himself better. He’d thought about taking a dossier or a report with him, but he decided there was no point in the pretense. Anyway, that daft part of him insisted that the moment he spent looking away from the screen was the moment someone would die. “Where is he? On the jump team?”

 

She nodded. “I think he’s on the helicopter with the camera.” She sighed. “I feel… stupid. For worrying. It’s not serious—he’s got another girlfriend back in San Fran. And it’s not like he’s in the damn Jaeger.”

 

“Helicopters are dangerous enough,” said Hermann, shrugging.

 

Vanessa favored him with a thin smile. “I suppose you would know the truth of that, wouldn’t you?” She pressed the power button on the projector. “Sit with me?”

 

Hermann acquiesced.

 

***

 

Everyone always watched the kaiju, waiting for the swipe that ended things. But Hermann knew better than most that accidents did in most of the men lost. A stray wire. A brief power surge. The tiniest break of a pilot's focus.

 

This time, it was lightning—it struck a building beside Crimson Typhoon, shorting out the controls. The kaiju, thankfully, was already dead and at the bottom of the bay, but the helicopters were just moving in to reattach the cables and bring Crimson home.

 

Hermann knew what would happen before it did. He did not allow himself to look away. Crimson rocked back, unbalanced by one set of cables. The power came back, but it was too late. Crimson had already pulled the helicopter into the building.

 

Vanessa sat calm and straight-backed, though one hand dug tightly into the place where prosthetic met flesh. Hermann picked up her hand and covered it with his own before she could hurt herself.

 

***

 

The memorial service was quiet and quick, as they all were in this age. Hermann always thought that was the worst part—the dead added up so quickly that if you gave due time to one, you let half a dozen slip by you unmourned.

 

Vanessa sat in front by herself, composed and still like she was sitting for a portrait. Newt sat in the back, one leg bouncing to a beat too fast to be good. Hermann was not brave enough to approach either of them.

 

***

 

Newt was late to the lab the next morning—not that he was ever early, but today he came in after noon as opposed to around ten. “Late night, Newton?” said Hermann, expecting no reply. He wasn’t sure why he said it. Perhaps because he was disappointed in himself for not reaching out at the memorial; perhaps because at this point nettling Newt was a habit, as unconscious as straightening his glasses or tightening his tie.

 

Newt scowled. For a moment, Hermann thought that would be that—he wasn’t even sure that Newt had heard, since scowling had lately become Newt’s usual expression. Then Newt fell back in his chair, propping his dirty Doc Martens on a stack of papers labeled _important_. “You know, that’s what really bugs me about you, when it comes down to it.” He put his hands behind his head.

 

Was it really worth responding to such an obvious opener?

 

But Hermann could never leave a question unanswered. He continued writing, since he was not yet calculating but only recopying a section of his great equation. “You know I hate it when you use pronouns without an antecedent, Newton. Explain yourself or be quiet.”

 

Newt huffed, though whether it was at the reference to grammar or to the injunction to be quiet Hermann couldn’t say. Not anymore, at least. “I can almost convince myself that there’s nothing left in there. That maybe you broke or something, and that’s why everything just… fell apart. A lot of people are like that these days. They’re not fighting because they believe in it—they just don’t know what else to do anymore.”

 

Hermann frowned, but Newt continued before he could speak. “But then you show up at a memorial or, like, explain something to someone else, and I realize that you _do_ still care. That maybe that heart of yours still exists after all.” His voice grew softer and softer as he spoke, in contrast to his usual pattern of rising to a rant. “And it just sucks, because then I don’t have answers again. For any of it.”

 

Hermann didn’t bother asking what that _it_ was. He pressed his palm to his forehead until the urge to turn around and say something had passed. Whatever came out of his mouth would not be appropriate.

 

When he was calm again, he scaled his ladder and turned his mind to higher things.

 

***

 

Hermann put the matter of Vanessa’s deceased paramour out of his mind. She didn’t show up to lunch for the next few days, but as far as he knew, she was working. He saw her often enough, conferring with Pentecost or one of the pilots, and they always exchanged a nod. Apparently she was too busy to do anything but take her lunches at her desk.

 

He thought so, anyway, until she showed up at his room one night. Hermann was at his desk—not even working, just unable to sleep. His hip hurt, and his mind was full: he had more data to share with the Marshal, and he kept running it through his mind over and over again, trying to figure out better ways to phrase it.

 

He was glaring at his papers as though that would intimidate them into making more sense to laymen when a knock came at his door.

 

“For heaven’s sake,” said Hermann. “It’s three in the morning. Come in or leave me alone.”

 

The door opened. It was Vanessa. She wore no makeup or jewelry; her brow was furrowed, as though she were trying to decide how upset she was. “Can I come in?”

 

Hermann felt foolish and awful. He tried to swallow and realized his mouth was dry. “Um—”

 

“Can I sit?” She gestured at his bed, still neatly made from that morning.

 

Hermann nodded. Was this how she felt when he came to her room? Like everything that made sense in their relationship had been stripped away, and they were left with anarchy? That night already felt like months ago. He’d been so focused on filing away his feelings for her, just as he had with Newt. Seeing her here was like being interrupted in the middle of a calculation. 

 

Vanessa sat, smoothing her skirt over her knees. She was still wearing her uniform, but she had abandoned her suit jacket. “I’m sorry I assumed you were still awake, but I’ve—” She pushed her fingers through her hair, mastering her expression.

 

Hermann felt he ought to reach out to her, but he left his hands on his knees. He didn’t even know what she was here for.

 

“I couldn’t sleep, and I’ve been keeping something down all day, and I had to talk to _someone_ about it, or else they’d find me screaming in my office tomorrow.” She swallowed. “Not someone. I wanted to tell you.”

 

Hermann hesitated. Then he got up—carefully, because his hip hurt like hell, and the next dose of pain medicine was a long way off—and sat beside her. He wanted to touch her but held still. “What is it?”

 

He couldn’t read her expression; she had tucked her feelings away. “I wondered about it, and I just couldn’t get it out of my head. So a few days ago, I took off work and went down to the city to get a test. I got tested again by the doctors here. I’m pregnant.”

 

He knew what the words were before she said them, but he still felt a shock. “How… how are you?”

 

She leaned forward, pressing her hands to her temples. “I don’t know yet, and that’s why I’ve been staying up. I tell myself—make a list. Pros and cons. That’s the smart thing to do. But I can’t decide what’s better or worse. And—I just had to get out of my own head. I had to tell someone.”

 

“Well, you’re here,” said Hermann. It was not what he wanted to say, but as usual, his words were locked behind a wall. “I’m listening.”

 

She smiled, weakly, and that made Hermann feel less inadequate. “Good, because I think I need to talk forever. I know it looks like I have plenty of people to talk to, and I do, but some days I get done and I realize I never said a word about myself the whole day. I’m _lonely_. That’s why I got in with Dan in the first place—I thought it would help. But he was like all the rest. He wanted to talk, but he never wanted to listen.” She hid her face.

 

Hermann bit his lip—but if not now, when? He reached over and pulled her hands down, pressing them flat to her thighs. Vanessa watched him, half-wary. “I’m here,” Hermann said. “I’m listening.”

 

“Thank you.” She swallowed. It was like watching her walk down a long hallway, seeing her face come more and more into focus, and he saw the deep struggle she had been hiding all this time. “I just… I want this child. That is what shocked me so much. When I knew, I wasn’t scared. I felt… peaceful. I’ve been alone for a very long time. I don’t think people realize that. I know all their names and their problems, and they think that means I have lots of friends, but I _don’t_. I haven’t had a real partner since before the war started.” Her hands clenched. “Is that selfish? I don’t even know if we’ll all live to nine months from now. And if we do—how do I know I’m not just letting it be born to die a different way?”

 

He reached over and took her hands. “Her,” said Hermann. Vanessa blinked. “Don’t call a baby ‘it.’ It’s bad luck.”

 

Vanessa’s hands tightened around his, unconsciously. She was looking intently into his face, as though studying him for any sign of perfidy. “You don’t think I'm crazy?”

 

“It is never crazy to hope,” said Hermann. “And that’s what you want, I think.”

 

Vanessa pulled her hands free of his. For a moment, he thought he had miscalculated, but she only moved so she could put her arms around him. Without thinking, Hermann put his hands on her back. She clutched him, nodding against his shoulder. Then, just as abruptly, she let him go and move back. “I’m sorry. This must not make any sense to you.”

 

“No, it’s—”

 

“It _isn’t_ fine, but only because I should have… I should have explained this before.” She moved to put her hands up to her face again; Hermann grabbed them before she could, and she smiled at him, half-grateful and half-absent-minded. She let out a slow breath. “Look. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you and Newt aren’t over each other.”

 

Hermann opened his mouth. Vanessa raised an eyebrow, and he realized that anything he said would be a lie. He dropped his eyes.

 

Vanessa waited a moment, then continued. “And I am all right with that, just like I am all right with this baby because—God, this is going to sound strange.” She bit her lip. “My life was taken from me. And now I finally feel like I’ve got it back.”

 

“You’re doing it again,” said Hermann, trying to make a joke. It fell flat, but he didn’t mind since it was a terrible attempt anyway.

 

“I told you, it only happens when I talk to you. It’s probably because you’re the only person I’ve had a personal conversation with in years.” There was something sad in her voice, but it was also crusted over, the way that the wound in Hermann’s heart that had once been Newt’s place was crusted over.

 

Her mouth worked for a moment as she decided what to say. “I was—in a relationship. I’ll tell you about it someday, because it’s complicated and it’s got a lot to do with why I like you, but right now I’m not ready, so just leave it at that.” Hermann nodded. “And… well, we were talking about having children. I had a good job, I was happy, we were ready. So we decided we were going to have a baby, and we were trying. Then—well. Trespasser happened.”

 

Hermann’s hand went slack around hers. Then, carefully, he put his free arm around her and pulled her against him. They gripped each other tightly.

 

“It was years ago,” said Vanessa, as though she were trying to console him. “It’s not like it happened yesterday.”

 

“Except that it did,” Hermann replied. “It did. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that much.”

 

She shifted, and he let her go, and they sat facing each other. Hermann cleared his throat. “So. All right. I need to—summarize. Is that all right?”

 

“Active listening.” Her lips twitched toward a hint of a smile. Good.

 

“Yes. Just so.” Hermann looked down at his hands, so he could manage to say it well. “You’re expecting, and you want the baby. That’s the most important part here. Everything else is… complicated.”

 

“I don’t mind complicated,” Vanessa reminded him.

 

“But I do,” said Hermann, gently. “Complex variables are all very well on my blackboard, but do not ask me to work with them face-to-face. And—this may sound callous, but I have too much work to do to figure much else out.”

 

She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. Hermann thought it was neutral, but he was not sure.

 

Hermann put the tips of his fingers together. “Anyway, there is an obvious problem here. I’m sure you’ve seen it. That is… the entire Shatterdome is a teratogen, Vanessa. If you want any chance of a healthy child, you cannot be here.”

 

Vanessa nodded, ducking her head. “I’m well aware,” she said, rolling her skirt down so it covered the place where her prosthetic met flesh once more. “And that was something I struggled with. If I leave this job, I lose all benefits. The regular PPDC won’t take me back—they’d laugh in my face now that I’ve worked hand-in-glove with the Jaeger program. And I don’t have any family. My whole life for so long has been the PPDC. I don’t know what to do without it.”

 

Hermann smiled thinly. “And I am hardly the person to ask for advice about that. I haven’t been off-base for any significant length of time in at least five years.” He took her hand again and allowed himself to admit that he wanted to hold it. “We’ll work something out, Vanessa. Don’t fret.”

 

Vanessa smiled at him, twining her fingers with his. “The strange thing is—now that I’ve finally told someone, I’m not. If we’re all going to die anyway, we might as well act like we aren’t.”

 

“I’d say you are correct,” said Hermann, “but we are not going to die. Have some faith, my dear.”

 

She put her hand alongside his cheek. “I do.”

 

***

 

Vanessa left after that. Strangely enough, Hermann found it easy to go back to sleep, although he drifted off thinking of her patchwork explanation for her attraction to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are curious, we are about halfway out. The story should be about 60k, I think. And if you actually stick with me that long... thank you. I promise there will be a happy ending. Not a simple ending, but a happy one.
> 
> One more chapter to the movieeee~


	16. Hermann's Second Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt shook his head in disgust. “All right, all right. You’re not in the mood today. Whatever. But if you don’t feel like going at it, just say so. The least you can do is tell me the truth.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a good thing. Whatever. We can finally both be done with this.”
> 
>  
> 
> “I’m not sleeping with Vanessa. She needed—advice.” The words came out heated, surprising even Hermann. Newt frowned, clearly studying Hermann’s words for duplicity. Hermann sighed. “She’s pregnant, Newton. She needed someone to talk to.”
> 
>  
> 
> Newt’s eyes went very wide. “Shit, it was with that guy, wasn’t it? What’s-his-face. The one who was always hitting on Tendo in Spanish.” Newt shoved his fingers through his hair. “Crap. Okay. You get one ‘shut the fuck up, Newt’ card for today or something.” He stared at his desk for a moment. “Shit. What’s she gonna do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a final chapter destination because I think I finally know how many this has. It is very much subject to change, but not by a lot. I'm excited.
> 
> Also, next chapter is the movie!

Newt was in the lab when Hermann arrived the next morning. It was obvious Newt had not slept. Hermann thought about lecturing him for it, but he thought of his conversation with Vanessa and bit his tongue.

 

“Did you have a good time last night?” Newt asked, raising his eyebrows. He was drawing on his computer screen, using his fingertips instead of the stylus.

 

Hermann squinted at him.

 

Newt raised his eyebrows, as though that would clarify his point. When Hermann still didn’t rise to Newt's bait, he huffed in disgust. “You know, the worst thing about you is that you start half our fights, but when I try, you don’t know what I’m talking about. Isn’t that the point of being exes in a small room? Aren’t we supposed to mock each other for downgrading or something?” He glared at his screen. “Not that you did, you bastard.”

 

“Newton, if you’re going to try and insult me, at least be clear about it,” said Hermann. He didn’t bother climbing the ladder or starting the hologram projector; Newt would not let this go until he felt satisfied. “What the devil are you talking about?”

 

Newt set his jaw. “I saw Vanessa leave your room last night, dude. It’s not like you gotta be coy about it. She never shuts up about you when she’s drunk, you know that?”

 

Hermann blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was more thrown off by Newt’s assumption that Hermann was sleeping with her or Newt’s comment that Vanessa spoke of him. “Newton. I’m not sleeping with Vanessa. We were talking. That’s all.” He wasn’t sure if he said it so emphatically because he wanted to make sure Newt had the facts or if he wanted to Newt he hadn’t slept with anyone else.

 

Newt shook his head in disgust. “All right, all right. You’re not in the mood today. Whatever. But if you don’t feel like going at it, just say so. The least you can do is tell me the truth.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a good thing. Whatever. We can finally both be done with this.”

 

“I’m _not_ sleeping with Vanessa. She needed—advice.” The words came out heated, surprising even Hermann. Newt frowned, clearly studying Hermann’s words for duplicity. Hermann sighed. “She’s pregnant, Newton. She needed someone to talk to.”

 

Newt’s eyes went very wide. “Shit, it was with that guy, wasn’t it? What’s-his-face. The one who was always hitting on Tendo in Spanish.” Newt shoved his fingers through his hair. “Crap. Okay. You get one ‘shut the fuck up, Newt’ card for today or something.” He stared at the his desk for a moment. “Shit. What’s she gonna do?”

 

“That’s what we discussed, Newton,” said Hermann, getting to his feet. “And, honestly, it isn’t any of your business.” Newt opened his mouth. “I’m playing my card now, Newton. You know the rules. Fifteen minutes of silence.”

 

Newt made a face, but he turned back to his computer screen.

 

***

 

Newt got engrossed in his drawing, which meant he was blissfully silent for the entire morning. It was good for Hermann’s work, but when he took breaks, he turned last night’s conversation in his head over and over again. What was she to do? What could he do to help?

 

When Hermann brought Newt his lunch, Newt spoke for the first time since their halted argument. “Yeah, I know it’s not any of my business, but I was just wondering if you pointed out that she cannot under any circumstances stay in the Shatterdome. Or anywhere near a coast, really. Not unless she wants a kaiju blue baby.”

 

Hermann had almost forgotten Newt’s habit of picking up arguments again hours later. He shook his head. “She knows that, Newton. There’s just the matter of what she’s going to do with herself outside the PPDC.”

 

“She could get married,” said Newton, sucking on his fork. Hermann frowned, and Newt spread his hands. “I’m serious! You’re the one who knows the PPDC guidelines inside and out. Spousal protections are really strong, and the benefits are nothing to sneeze at. And there’s access to communal housing for displaced family and stuff.”

 

Hermann stared at Newt.

 

Newt scowled at him. “What, man? I like her, too, _okay_? She’s cool. We talk about anime and music and shit. And it sucks that her boyfriend died. I am trying to be helpful for once in my life. So fucking sue me.” He spun his chair so his back was to Hermann.

 

Hermann felt like he ought to thank Newt, but maybe that was just because Hermann had spent another night awake and was suffering from sleep psychosis, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

***

 

She wasn’t around at lunch, but he saw her at dinner, and though he didn’t sit with her—she was with the Marshal and Tendo, and he didn’t feel like interrupting—he followed her when she excused herself. She didn’t seem at all surprised. The smile she gave him was quiet, but it was real and reassuring. “This saves me the trouble of waiting until the wee hours to wake you up, so that’s good,” said Vanessa. She took her necklace off and tucked it in the pocket of her suit jacket.

 

Hermann shrugged. “I would be awake. It’s an unfortunate truth of the times we live in. I’m not sure I know anyone who sleeps easily.”

 

Vanessa put her hands behind her back. “I don’t.” They walked to her room without discussing it. Hermann followed her inside and stood awkwardly at the door. How, exactly, did you bring up to a woman like Vanessa that her best option was to get married?

 

Vanessa sat on her bed and unzipped her boots. “I’ve spoken with a few of my friends.” Her voice wasn’t light, but it was absent of the quiet sadness of the last few days. “The situation’s not as dire as I thought, but I’d feel bad, falling back on their charity, and I’m not sure they’d understand why--well, why I'm putting up with it.” She made a face, setting her boots aside. 

 

“You do have—other options,” said Hermann. He was staring at the wall. He forced himself to meet her eyes.

 

“Please tell me what I haven’t already considered.” Her voice was teasing, but her eyebrows were raised, as though she were daring him.

 

“Marriage.” His voice was not quite like his own. He wanted to sit down because he did not quite trust his legs under the force of her expression—she reminded him of a bird of prey, staring down a mouse.

 

“And who, exactly, am I meant to marry?” She reached up to remove her earrings, though her eyes were still on him. “You must have missed the part where I mentioned I haven’t anyone close to me around here. And the father of my child is currently somewhere in Hong Kong Bay.”

 

Hermann let out a slow breath. “This is ridiculous, and I am well aware of how ridiculous it is, but I beg you to bear with me. You could marry—me.”

 

Vanessa looked at him blankly. “Have you suffered any blows to the head, Dr. Gottlieb?” She paused. “Taken your meds a bit too often? Anything like that?”

 

Hermann glared at her, brushing away the words. “I’m not joking. I’ve thought about it all day, and it actually makes a good bit of sense. In the first place, no one will ever suspect me of fraud. I am well aware and proud of my reputation as a rule-obsessed stick in the mud. In the second place, I am a founding member of the PPDC. My benefits package is—considerable, and it’s not doing me any good at the moment. In the third place, you would have options for places to stay. I have a permanent residence in Cambridge. If you wanted somewhere inland, I’m sure my sister Karla would take you in. Despite the impression you might receive from me or my father, my family is not all self-righteous and pompous. You’d get on well with her.”

 

“This is why I always feel like I have to bring notes when I talk to you,” said Vanessa faintly, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “You are always so prepared. Bullet points. _Jesus_.”

 

Hermann shrugged. “I know it is a preposterous proposal. The fact remains. It is your best option. It does not require you to compromise your morals—much, at least—it does not require you to put yourself into debt, and it allows you to choose where you wish to stay instead of settling for the first option.”

 

Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest, still looking away from him. Then her mouth twisted to the side, and she raised her eyes. “You know, you have some nerve, Hermann Gottlieb.” Hermann opened his mouth, meaning to apologize, but Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “You’re asking me to marry you, and you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

 

Hermann looked away, blushing. “I do not mean it that way. It is simply an answer to your problems. An… arrangement. It is hardly ideal, but—” He shrugged. “I wanted to help you.”

 

Vanessa looked at her hands for a long moment. Hermann wondered if she was going to throw him out or if she was considering it. “It isn’t that I don’t see your point. It’s so simple it’s almost beautiful. But at the same time—” She laughed, nervously. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. Or not being honest. Or something.”

 

Hermann’s eyes slid to hers. “Call it—buying time.” Vanessa cocked her head, and Hermann let out a slow breath. “We have established we both have an interest in each other, but we have also established this is hardly the time or the place to pursue that interest. I want to ensure that—that we might have that chance, if things go well and… we come out the other side, so to speak.”

 

Vanessa’s lips parted, then closed and settled into a calm smile. “Well. That sounds all very nice, I think.” She smoothed her skirt over her knees. “It’s a shame, though. So very… Victorian.”

 

“I like the Victorians,” said Hermann, raising one shoulder in a shrug. “I understand them.”

 

Vanessa laughed. “Fine. All right. I accept your proposal, however awkward it was. However awkward it will be.”

 

Hermann shrugged again. He tried to joke, but his voice was weak. He was still surprised she hadn’t laughed in his face. “Think of it as old-fashioned. Isn’t this how they used to do it?”

 

Vanessa looked at him from under her lashes. “Well. They weren’t as prudish as you might think.” She got to her feet, carefully, and walked over to him, making each step count. “Can I—”

 

“I suppose it’s only polite,” said Hermann, although he was still blushing.

 

“I’m not really into the courtly love thing,” said Vanessa, placing her hands on his chest. “All right?”

 

“Yes.” Hermann leaned forward just as she did.

 

She was a gentle, thoughtful kisser, and it was good, because Hermann could remain calm and thoughtful himself. He put his hands on her waist and felt not need but release, like working a knot free from his leg.

 

Vanessa moved back, smiling. “There. That helps.” She grinned, suddenly, and ducked her head. “You know, I told myself I wasn’t leaving this ‘dome until I kissed you at least once. I never would have bet money on getting it like this, though.” Laughing, she stepped away from him.

 

He still felt the light pressure of her lips on his own, and it made him nervous. He was very aware he could step forward and kiss her again. He could break the rules they had constructed with one simple motion, and that was terrifying.

 

So he said good night to her and went to lie alone in his own room, hip aching and heart full.

 

***

 

In the end, it was simple, and that almost made it frightening. Vanessa came by the next day while he was working and slid the form across his desk. Hermann met her eyes for a moment, but Newt was in the room, and so neither of them said a word, but she smiled at him, and Hermann smiled back.

 

Her middle name was Lucretia. Hmm.

 

He filled out his information quickly until he got to the bottom. A witness was required. Vanessa picked Tendo, which left Hermann in a spot because the Marshal couldn’t be his witness since he would sign off on it. So who—?

 

He didn’t realize Newt had been looking over his shoulder until Newt slid the form out of his grasp.

 

“What are you—” Hermann turned, expecting a fight.

 

Newt ignored him. He picked the pen out of Hermann’s hand and scribbled his name at the bottom. Hermann looked at him in shock, waiting for the dramatic gesture, the shouting. Newt opened his mouth and closed it again, then slid the form back to Hermann with the pen resting on top of it. “…Call it a wedding present,” said Newt, and went back to his side of the room.

 

Hermann opened his mouth, then shut it. He was only going to yell at Newt because it would have made himself feel better, and he didn’t deserve that.

 

***

 

He brought the paperwork to Vanessa’s room that night. She had already packed up her room; the only thing left was the sheets on the bed. “I leave as soon as this goes through,” said Vanessa quietly, taking the form from him. “I can’t… I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

 

Hermann smiled at her. “That’s a simple one.” She cocked her head. “Live, Vanessa. That’s all.”

 

She bit her lip. Then she stepped forward. Hermann held out his hand, expecting a handshake like their first meeting, but she pushed his hand away so she could put her arms around his neck. Hermann hugged her back.

 

***

 

Vanessa left the morning after that. She did not say goodbye, but Hermann had come to expect that. She left a card on his door with a phone number and an address. More than usual, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed yet that Vanessa is always taking her clothes off around Hermann?
> 
> Also, I can only imagine the kind of birth defects people in the PacRim universe have to deal with.


	17. Pitfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another pause. “He’s looking for another brain?” Before Hermann could say something rude that he didn’t mean—except that he would mean it, because at that moment he hated himself so much that the only possible response was to hate everything else, too—Vanessa continued. “You wish you could protect him. Stop wishing.”
> 
> Hermann almost asked how in the hell he could do that. Then he caught her point and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally at the movie! I elided a lot and just kind of ignored the timeline of everything because working it out was giving me a headache. It did however give me a chance to watch the movie like three more times and pretend I was doing it FOR SCIENCE instead of because I am a piece of trash obsessed with this film.
> 
> I am also very nearly done with this fic, so updates will probably pick up because I am super-excited about everything that happens next.

After Vanessa left, everything happened very quickly.

 

***

 

New Year’s was a messy affair in the Shatterdome. Christmas was quiet because no one liked being away from their families, but everyone appreciated getting as drunk as possible as quickly as possible.

 

Hermann was deciding whether or not he wanted to participate when his mobile rang. Vanessa’s number showed up on his screen. She had accepted one of her friend’s invitations and was settled somewhere in Italy, far away from the coast. Now she and Hermann corresponded as infrequently as they had before she came to the Shatterdome, which was both good, because he could set aside his concern for her and work, and bad, because he still found himself worrying about her the same way he still worried about Newt.

 

As usual, she started in the middle of the conversation. “I want your opinion on something. Are you busy?”

 

Hermann snorted. “Not tonight. I’m torn between getting drunk with the J-techs and the LOCCENT crew.”

 

“You could just wait until they all get smashed enough to come together,” Vanessa suggested. “I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one who doesn’t have concrete plans tonight. Chelsea’s gone out with her man for the night, so I have the place to myself. I can’t even get drunk and trash the place, which is my usual go-to.” She sighed. “Anyway, not the point. I went to the doctor yesterday.”

 

Hermann’s hand clenched on his good knee. Vanessa kept him up to date on the baby, and so far everything was going well, but he was too aware of everything that could happen. “And?”

 

“And the doctor said that it’s finally around the time I could tell the sex. But I’m not sure if I want to.”

 

Hermann’s mouth twisted to the side. He wondered how much he ought to tell her. Talk of work had died as Vanessa found other ways to occupy herself, and he wanted to keep it that way, but he also knew that when the Marshal returned, everything would change. Wasn’t it best she was informed? He sighed. “Isn’t it better to know? In case—something happens?”

 

Vanessa didn’t answer for a moment, so long that Hermann checked his phone to make sure the signal hadn’t died. Then she said, “No, that settles it. I don’t want to know.”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“Not everyone likes having the answer to every question, Hermann.” She paused. “And… call me superstitious if you want, but I don’t want to do anything that says I don’t believe I will be here four months from now. Because I will. Everything will be fine.”

 

***

 

A few weeks later, they announced the Sydney ‘dome was closing. Everyone had been expecting it, but it still hit hard. Hermann went up to LOCCENT to look at Tendo’s map, only to find Tendo taking it down.

 

Tendo smiled, carefully. “It’s not like everybody doesn’t know what it says, doc.” He rolled up the map. “It’s bad for morale.”

 

***

 

When Hermann went back to the lab, he found Newt throwing equipment onto a pallet. “Did you set something on fire again? Because I am not helping you this time,” said Hermann in his archest tone.

 

Newt called him something rude. Hermann ignored this. “No, asshole,” said Newt, once he had finished running around. “The Sydney ‘dome called and asked if I wanted their stuff, so of course I said yes. But that means I have to leave—” He glanced at his wrist, realized he was not wearing a watch, and made a frustrated sound.

 

“It’s a quarter after noon,” said Hermann, taking pity on him.

 

“So I have to leave now. Shit. Where’s my fucking headlamp?”

 

Hermann pointed to it, dangling off a corner of Newt’s computer.

 

Newt cursed again, grabbed it, and pushed the pallet out of the room.

 

***

 

Hermann enjoyed the silence. He got good work done, and for once, he didn’t feel like he needed to pick hot nails out of his hip socket when he climbed down from the ladder.

 

He walked out of the lab with the vague idea of getting dinner, but he noticed there was no one in the hallways.

 

He abandoned the idea of potatoes and rushed down to LOCCENT. There, the screens were full of a kaiju attacking the opera house. In Sydney.

 

Hermann found that his hip did, in fact, hurt, and he grabbed the side of a table for support, because he thought it was going to give out.

 

“How much did I miss?” he asked, when he could speak.

 

“It just started, doc,” said Tendo. He was carrying five cups of coffee, his customary response to kaiju attacks. “Don’t worry. Striker’s getting suited up. They’re gonna lose some buildings, but it’ll be fine.”

 

Hermann did not mention that he had never cared about the status of the Sydney opera house before this moment.

 

***

 

The fight didn’t take long, and that was good, because watching it made Hermann feel ill.

 

***

 

The next morning, it was pouring rain. Hermann went outside anyway. Mutavore had not gotten anywhere near the Sydney ‘dome, but that didn’t matter.It was the end of the world. He was allowed to be a sentimental fool.

 

Of course, that was not what Newt got out of the conversation. What began as a simple question of “where the hell are we supposed to put a kaiju brain; don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve been moving your bloody specimens onto my side of the lab” devolved into the sort of shouting match they hadn’t had in a while. It was almost comforting, like a pair of old shoes.

 

***

 

“You’ll kill yourself,” said Hermann, and he wasn’t sure if he was glad that he’d finally said it out loud, or if he was angry that it came out withering instead of concerned.

 

“Or I’d be a rockstar,” said Newt. That wasn’t even worth a glance in his direction.

 

***

 

Hermann went down to the Jaeger bay after that, since Tendo wanted Hermann to glance at one last change to Gipsy’s code. Also, he had to add more precise data about the Breach into Gipsy’s and Striker’s computers.

 

He was halfway through that when he realized he’d forgotten to upload the readings from the Sydney attack from his local drive to the ‘dome’s cloud. Which meant going all the way back to the lab. Blast.

 

Hermann considered calling Newt and telling him to do it—even now, Newt could be bothered for the promise of carrots or the right to blast his music all day—but Hermann didn’t want Newt mucking about on his private computer. Anyway, Newt was probably still sulking and would refuse out of spite.

 

When he came to the lab, Hermann was turning over different ideas about Gipsy’s performance based on Raleigh’s copilot candidates. The door was locked. Was Newt out? No music blasted from within, so it was a good chance. But where would he be?

 

It didn’t matter. At least Hermann had decided to come down himself instead of wasting time contacting Newt.

 

Hermann unlocked the door, still adjusting numbers in his head instead of watching what he was doing. Then he noticed the enormous, jerry-rigged machine straddling the line.

 

Hermann moved at a speed he could hardly believe. Newt was sprawled in a chair, seizing. Hermann slammed his hand down on the squid cap to break the connection and dropped to his knees as Newt slid out of the chair and onto the floor. Hermann grabbed him. For a moment, Hermann was convinced Newt wasn’t breathing. Then he found Newt’s pulse, rapid and fluttering like a panicked bird’s. Newt’s nose was bleeding; the sclera of one eye filled with blood as Hermann looked for any sign that Newt knew he was there.

 

“Newton! Newt!”

 

Newt’s pupils constricted, and he lurched forward, grabbing at Hermann’s hands and gasping.

 

“Can you hear me?” Hermann was shaking, and his hip ached ferociously, and nothing mattered more than Newt’s bloodstained hand digging into his sleeve.

 

“I told you,” Newt breathed. Despite his fierce tone, he clung to Hermann like he no longer trusted gravity to keep him there. “I told you it would work, you _bastard_.” He swallowed hard, and his death grip on Hermann’s arm loosened. “I need—the Marshal.”

 

“You need your head examined, you bloody idiot! What were you _thinking_?” Hermann’s voice cracked.

 

“I was _thinking_ I could save the goddamn world, and I was right.” Newt swallowed again and looked up into Hermann’s face. His eyes were a little clearer, and angry. “Now get the fucking Marshal. I’d do it, but I can’t make my legs work.”

 

Hermann swallowed, staring down into Newt’s face. “At least let me help you back into the chair,” he said at last, because nothing else would come out of his mouth. He couldn’t fathom the things running through his head, much less articulate them.

 

“Whatever, whatever.” Newt let Hermann heave him back into the chair. The movement left Hermann stuck until Newt pulled him up after. Hermann felt like he ought to say something, but Newt glared at him so fiercely that Hermann left without a word.

 

When he was outside, he fell against the wall, staring at the ceiling with one hand pressed to his racing heart. This would not do. This would not help. He shoved everything he felt into a box, until he was relatively certain he wouldn’t look crazed. Then he ran for LOCCENT.

 

***

 

Everything after that was a blur. Hermann was concentrating too hard on keeping himself together to focus on what was happening. He’d never in his life believed that Newt would Drift with a kaiju. There was insane, and there was _insane_ , and certainly Newt—

 

But Newt had done it, and everything else fell apart in the face of that knowledge.

 

At last, when Newt was gone—and Hermann could still hardly believe that the Marshal had sent him away when Newt was still dripping blood and his sclera took on color like a bleeding watercolor every moment—Hermann collapsed into his chair.

 

His heart pounded; his hip felt like it was on fire. And none of that mattered because Newt was going to _kill himself_ , and Hermann had just—let him leave.

 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted—

 

He fumbled his mobile from his pocket and stabbed Vanessa’s number. She didn’t get any chance to speak. “Newton Drifted with a piece of kaiju brain, and the Marshal’s sent him out to meet some crackpot kaiju collector so he can do it again when he barely survived the first time.”

 

Vanessa didn’t speak. Hermann’s hands tightened on his faded corduroys as he waited for a response, even though he realized it was a lot to take in.

 

“And?” she said at last.

 

Only the knowledge that he would never get a replacement kept Hermann from pitching his phone at the wall so he could watch it shatter. “ _And_ he’s going to kill himself, and I don’t know what to do.” Despite his anger, his voice shook.

 

Another pause. “He’s looking for another brain?” Before Hermann could say something rude that he didn’t mean—except that he would mean it, because at that moment he hated himself so much that the only possible response was to hate everything else as well—Vanessa continued. “You wish you could protect him. Stop wishing.”

 

Hermann almost asked how in the hell he could do that. Then he caught her point and hung up.

 

***

 

The Marshal and Tendo were fine-tuning the plan in LOCCENT.

 

Hermann didn’t care that he was interrupting them. “I need a helicopter,” said Hermann, putting his hands on his cane.

 

The Marshal raised an eyebrow, which was his way of saying he was losing patience.

 

Hermann scowled. “Marshal Pentecost. Newton is going to die by himself, and I have specifically stated in meeting after meeting that I am the only one who gets to kill that poor excuse for a scientist.” He swallowed; the bravado was hard to keep up when he thought about what he was saying. “Let me save his life. Please. Sir.”

 

After a wait that was agonizing, just like the rest of the damn day, the Marshal nodded. “It’s done, Dr. Gottlieb. You’ll take the Pons to him.”

 

***

 

Hermann wanted to ask exactly what the hell had happened, since a fetal kaiju was not something one saw every day, even in his line of work, but it came out wrong, as usual. At least it came out wrong about something useful, no matter what Newt said. He’d been there when Hermann predicted the triple event. He should have known how important it was.

 

Then Hermann said it. The look on Newt’s face was almost enough to make the last year or so of fights worth it. “You would do that for me? With me?” Newt asked, his eyes wide behind his battered glasses.

 

Hermann couldn’t say what he wanted to say, so he settled for the obvious. “Do I really have any choice?”

 

***

 

Hermann wasn’t sure what he expected the Drift to be like. He knew pilot lore. It was flashbacks in a movie—swimmy and sepia-toned. It was Professor X looking for mutants with Cerebro—quick flashes of images, feelings. It was a weird dream that you remember perfectly upon waking.

 

The truth, of course, was nothing like that.

 

***

 

Newt slammed his hand down on the button, and everything slipped away. Hermann had a vague plan to keep their minds apart as much as possible, but it was like Newt dived into his mind chanting _why why why_

 

***

 

_the burn of a needle across the sensitive inside of his arm, the only part that really hurt—_

 

and then it was the searing pain of his hip in the only moment he could remember of the crash, face-down underneath something heavy and hot with the pilot’s empty eyes staring him in the face—

 

_curled up sobbing in his dorm bed in MIT, and he finally understood why it was called homesickness because he wanted to be back in Berlin right now so bad it hurt—_

  
  


his hands pressed over his ears as he tried to get himself under control because if he started crying then the bullies would win, and the son of Lars Gottlieb did not lose—

 

**claws scratching at the edges of tanks**

 

_he was shouting at a rally because this, this was where he belonged, on the right fucking side of history—_

 

writing on a blackboard because sometimes technology was not always worth it—

 

**screams so faint they sounded human in the worst way**

 

_teeth dragged across his neck, and it was good because it would never really hurt, would never really be bad—_

 

a body curled up against his side and the sleepy drone of his voice while warm fingers dug into the ball of his hip, lessening the—

 

**pain the whole world was pain and death and destruction and nothing and no one deserved to feel better**

  
  


***

 

Roaring drowned the whole thing out, and Hermann realized why Newt hadn’t been able to speak coherently—there were no words in the mind of the kaiju, only noise. Screaming. It was a wonder Newt came back with words at all.

 

It was only bearable because it grew darker and darker and fainter and fainter until Hermann thought there was nothing at all.

 

Except a question.

 

***

 

_why why why_

 

It was a flask of tea on his desk every morning.

 

_(waking up with someone else’s coat draped over his back and a raggedy pillow tucked under his cheek)_

 

It was fingers digging into his hip and a soft voice even though both of them were so angry at each other they could hardly see straight, because pain was more important than whatever held them at arm’s length that night.

 

_(keeping quiet and explaining even though other lovers had turned away and left at less)_

 

It was a ridiculous smile and laughter in the middle of the night and lips that were always chapped.

 

_(the smile that always came along with the sharp remark, as though to say we know better don’t we darling)_

 

It was coming back.

 

_(saving my life even though you hate my guts)_

 

***

 

_why why why why_

 

Because I still love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt set the lab on fire once. Hermann tried to help but only made it worse.
> 
> Long story short, it ended up with both of them under the chemical shower while the Marshal demonstrated proper fire extinguisher technique.


	18. Buying Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed impossible that a plan under development for years was happening miles away. That all of Hermann’s predictions were dust in the face of the great reality happening in the Pacific.
> 
> When the Throat collapsed onscreen, Hermann’s heart stopped.
> 
> Could it really be over? All those years of work? All the stress and the pain?
> 
> He wasn’t sure who went for the embrace first—him or Newt. But for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

It was too important to speak of anything but the kaiju, at least at first. When they got in the helicopter, they sat across from each other. Hermann’s good leg jiggled restlessly, a habit he abhorred; Newt dug his fingers into his hip as though it ached. All the while, energy moved back and forth between them like the tide coming in and going out.

 

Newt looked at him, suddenly. Eye contact felt like the Drift all over again; neither of them could hold it. “You call me Newt.”

 

Hermann understood some things, now, but others would forever take Hermann by surprise. “What?”

 

“In your head. You call me Newt in your head. But not out loud. Why?”

 

Hermann stared at him. “ _That’s_ what you ask?”

 

“Dude! So not in the mood!” He paused, let out a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Just… tell me, okay? Just this thing.”

 

Hermann swallowed. “Because that’s what you want. Isn’t it?”

 

Newt turned his face to the window. The connection still surged back and forth between them, but Newt was closed, like a locked door.

 

***

 

It seemed impossible that a plan under development for years was happening miles away. That all of Hermann’s predictions were dust in the face of the great reality happening in the Pacific.

 

When the Throat collapsed onscreen, Hermann’s heart stopped.

 

Could it really be over? All those years of work? All the stress and the pain?

 

He wasn’t sure who went for the embrace first—him or Newt. But for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

 

***

 

The night after that was a blur—Herc forced Newt and Hermann off to the med bay for brain scans, which should have been nerve-wracking but weren’t because it was hard to believe anything was wrong with him when he could still feel Newt’s mind like a warm back against his.

 

And there wasn’t. Somehow, they were both fine.

 

When the doctors pronounced them both healthy, they walked out into the biggest party the world had ever seen. Newt looked at him, his head cocked to the side. Before he could speak, Hermann’s mobile went off.

 

Newt’s lips thinned; he knew the ringtone. It wasn’t an unhappy expression, not really—they understood each other too well for that now. “You should get that.”

 

“Newt—”

 

His eyes widened, but he shook his head. “You’ll know where to find me.” Before Hermann could protest further Newt slid away, walking backwards and turning to the front only when he reached the end of the hall.

 

Hermann picked up.

 

“Is it true?”

 

For once, Hermann didn’t fault her for not greeting him. “Yes. It’s over.”

 

From the other end of the phone came the longest sigh Hermann had ever heard. It echoed his own feelings.

 

“Did you—”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you… all right?”

 

Hermann looked down at his hands. For a moment, he expected to see tattoos crawling over his skin. He blinked, and the sensation dissipated. “I’m not sure yet. No injuries, but… we’ll see.”

 

“That’s good.” She let out another breath. “Get some rest. Will you call me soon?”

 

He sensed it was more than a request for a call. “Yes. As soon as I know what’s going on.”

 

“All right. Good night, Hermann.”

 

“Good night, Vanessa. Sleep well.”

 

***

 

Hermann had dreamed of the party post-Pitfall. Not because he liked getting drunk, but because he looked forward to the weight off his shoulders. The relaxation felt as good as he’d imagined, but he’d never pictured that his hip would hurt so much or that he’d be so bloody.

 

The party would go on for days. A shower sounded like the best way to celebrate tonight.

 

As he sat underneath the water, phantom fingers dug into his hip. A smile drifted onto his face as his leg relaxed.

 

He crawled into bed naked, something he hadn’t done since Newt left. He thought the headache would keep him awake, but he fell asleep at once.

 

***

 

He woke only once, when his door opened. Newt slipped into bed beside him, settling along Hermann’s side like he had never left.

 

“Okay?” Newt whispered.

 

“Yes,” Hermann whispered back.

 

***

 

Hermann woke because Newt was moving around. Shirt halfway over his head, Newt said, “Marshal buzzed us. Big meeting.”

 

“What time is it?” Hermann mumbled. His head felt foggy; he remembered dreams that didn’t feel like his own.

 

“It’s after three,” said Newt, bending over to lace up his boots. He winced, the way Hermann always did.

 

Hermann passed a hand over his face. “Yes. Of course.”

 

Newt hesitated. “You feel okay?”

 

Hermann sat up, slowly. For once, his hip didn’t shout at him, and his headache had left. “Stiff, but that’s all.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “You?”

 

Newt shrugged. “I feel weird, but I expected that. Alcohol and Drifting are a bad mix.” Hermann frowned, but Newt waved it away. “Put some pants on, man. Time to work.”

 

***

 

Herc—now the Marshal, and there was a strange and terrifying thought—was in LOCCENT, leaning against the front control panel. Mako and Raleigh were at his right hand, leaning against each other. They were bandaged and weary, but otherwise intact. Tendo was seated beside them, looking well even though Hermann had seen him doing tequila body shots last night. The head medical officer and a number of J-techs were there as well.

 

“I’ll keep it short,” said Herc, looking at all of them in turn. “We’ve all got better things to be doing, but just because we’ve got the biggest party in the world going on doesn’t mean we can slack off. The PPDC brass contacted me today. They are, of course, trying to cover their asses.”

 

Nervous, bitter laughter from most. Raleigh hooked his thumbs through his belt, as though he had words to say he was biting down.

 

“They’re trying to act like they never wrote off our program, which means a couple of things. Our remaining pilots,” he nodded at Mako and Raleigh, who exchanged a glance that gave Hermann a start because he recognized it now, “are wanted to lead a victory tour. I wanted to tell them to get stuffed, but I figured I should check first.” He raised his eyebrows at the pair.

 

Raleigh’s eyes narrowed, but Mako was the one who spoke. “Tell them we respectfully decline, Marshal.” She put the slightest emphasis on _respectfully_. “We need time to recover first. Privacy.” She dropped her eyes; Raleigh found her hand and squeezed it.

 

Herc nodded. “Good. Right. ‘S not like they deserve you anyway.” He let out a breath. “Next order of business. They want to turn this ‘dome into a memorial.”

 

Hisses of disdain from Tendo and the other J-techs.

 

Herc nodded. “That one I did tell them to get stuffed. If they knew any—any of the pilots, they’d understand. We do good work here. That’s how we honor them.” Hermann nodded along with everyone else. Truer words never spoken. “Not sure if they’re gonna listen, though, so once everybody’s used up all the liquor, do an inventory, huh?” That was for Tendo and the J-techs. “Find out what we’ve got left that’s important. Same goes for you two. I know you’ve got institutions bidding on you—” this was a surprise to Hermann, but Newt just nodded, “—but remember, your work is still PPDC property.”

 

He paused. “I’m not saying hide your stuff, but… hide your stuff. The PPDC hasn’t used us well. We might as well let someone else get the profits. You get me?”

 

Nods again.

 

Tendo propped his feet up on the counter. Herc raised a brow—this was a move Pentecost never would have allowed, and apparently Herc wasn’t fond of it either. Tendo put his feet down. “Uh. So what does that mean? Where are we headed, sir?”

 

Herc raised one shoulder in a shrug. “If I had to bet, I’d still say they’re shutting down the ‘dome.” He frowned until everyone stopped muttering to each other. “The PPDC wants to sweep this under the rug. This place is proof that they didn’t believe in us. They want to pretend that never happened. Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t. It doesn’t matter.” He looked at his sling and let out a slow breath. “But I know a lot of you are going to get good offers, and I’d take them. I’m staying, but that’s just because I don’t have much left outside this job. But if I had a place that was less—” here he shrugged again, as though there were no words for the PPDC’s treatment, “—I’d go there. Just let me know, so we can all say goodbye. We’re still a team, whatever happens.”

 

People around the room glanced at each other, as though trying to guess who was going to jump which way. Hermann glanced at Newt, but it was just like last night. Newt was closed to him, at least for now.

 

***

 

When Hermann returned to the lab and checked his inbox, he did have a number of emails. Cambridge wanted him back; his alma mater in Berlin was offering him residency. There were a number of American schools, as well. Hermann’s first instinct was to delete them… but MIT was on the list. Hermann didn’t touch them.

 

Instead, he began looking through his things. Most of his research was property of the PPDC, but not all; he’d published a number of independent papers about the techniques they’d used to study the Breach, as well as the techniques they’d used to build the Jaegers. He organized them into piles: the research that didn’t belong to him; the research that could get him awards; the research that would get him grants and independent contracts. He vaguely remembered this process from his life in academia, but the memories felt unreal, like the strange dreams of last night.

 

It was busy work, of course. He waited and waited, but Newt never returned to the lab.

 

***

 

Hermann gave up around eleven and went to bed. The party was still going on outside, but he wasn’t in the mood. Not that he ever was in much of a mood for parties.

 

He stayed up reading old papers. Around three, Newt came to the door again. They looked at each other for a moment. Then Newt claimed a place on Hermann’s bed so he could take off his boots. Hermann watched him, but Newt did not lift his head until his Doc Martens were off—neatly lined up beside Hermann’s shoes, in a way that had never happened in their several-odd years of sharing quarters.

 

Hermann opened his mouth and realized he did not know what he wanted to say. There was a lot. He didn’t know where to start.

 

Newt let out a breath. “We need to talk,” he said, “and that sucks, because I thought that was the opposite of the point of Drifting.”

 

“Even without the Drift, we’d still have to talk,” said Hermann, just as softly. “There’s no two ways around it. So… talk.”

 

Newt scowled. “I’d complain, but I am the one who brought it up, so whatever.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “God, I just… I want to pretend that none of this ever happened and that we could pick up where we left off. But we can’t. It’s not just Vanessa—that’s a whole ‘nother problem. It’s…”

 

Hermann smoothed his hands over his trouser legs until he realized it was a habit he’d picked up from Vanessa, not one of his own nervous tics. He stopped at once.

 

Newt sighed. “I need to get away from you for a while.” Hermann frowned, but Newt shook his head. “Look. It’s not nice, but whatever. Last night was bad, okay?” He lifted his head; his hands were shaking, but Hermann didn’t think he noticed. “I just—I went outside and I realized that all the kaiju were gone and now I have to figure out what I want to do with my life all over again. And, like, that’s bad enough. Like, I don’t know about you, but I always thought I was gonna die doing this, and now…”

 

“We all have to learn how to live again, Newt,” said Hermann.

 

Newt nodded. One of his knees began bouncing; he glanced at it like he didn’t recognize the motion and stopped. “But it’s more than that. It’s… it’s you, okay? I didn’t realize it until last night, but I’ve spent every day since I met you being your opposite. Maybe not on purpose, but that’s how it is. Left brain, right brain. Old school, new school. Hard science, soft science. All that shit. I realized—I realized that if I take away the kaiju, and I take away you… I don’t know what’s left.” He leaned forward, suddenly, hiding his face.

 

Hermann’s chest grew tight; he wasn’t sure if it was his own feelings or an echo of Newt’s. He wanted to move to the bed and hold Newt, but for once he knew it would be the wrong thing to do.

 

Newt straightened, scrubbing at his eyes. “And that’s… that’s pretty fucked up, isn’t it? I mean, I have six doctorates. I’m a rock star! But it’s not… it isn’t like I wanted. I just… I need to get away for a while. From all of it.”

 

Hermann looked at his feet. He wanted to argue, but he knew it wasn’t for Newt’s sake.

 

Newt rubbed the back of his neck. “And then—there is the whole Vanessa thing. She could be good for you. I mean, I like her, too. And I don’t want to fuck that up. You should just… be with her. I mean—Jesus.”

 

He tipped his head back; again, Hermann felt that tightness in his chest, but he still couldn’t tell which one of them it belonged to. “Maybe we should just never talk to each other again, because fuck, I _loved_ you, and now I know you loved me, and we still completely ruined it. You should just… go live your life, and I should go live mine, and maybe someday we’ll actually be able to talk to each other like human beings.”

 

Hermann waited until Newt got himself under control. “Are you finished?” Newt shrugged, which was as close to a yes as Hermann was going to get. “I think your initial proposal is a good one.”

 

Newt snorted. “I almost forgot that you talk like a fucking textbook,” he muttered. “If I start doing that, I’m wringing your scrawny neck.”

 

Hermann ignored the “scrawny” comment. It was, after all, true. “I think you are correct. We need time apart. If we—” here, he glanced at Newt, because he couldn’t help himself, and saw the uncertainty in his own heart mirrored on Newt’s face, “—if we did anything now, it would be wrong. There’s too much in the way. We need a fresh start and… that takes time.”

 

He paused. “I’ve… I’ve treated you so badly, Newt, and I’m so sorry.” The words were easy now, but maybe that was just because Newt already knew them, somewhere.

 

Newt smiled, a little. It wasn’t quite right. “It’s not like I didn’t give as good as I got, man. It’s way past the point we can figure out who to blame.”

 

Hermann nodded. He felt better now that he’d said it out loud, but there were still other problems. “As for your second proposal, I can’t…” He sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen between Vanessa and I. There’s been too many things in the way for me to understand anything about her or how I feel. You know me. I’m not good at this.”

 

Newt shrugged, passing a hand over his face. “I don’t want to take that away from you,” he repeated. “I don’t want you to pass on a good thing just because I need to get my shit together.”

 

“Buying time,” said Hermann, abruptly, and by the way Newt looked at him, he didn’t remember the resonance of the phrase. “We should… we should take our own paths for now. Perhaps… until April?”

 

That one Newt recognized. “I do like babies,” he said at last, looking everywhere but Hermann’s face.

 

“It isn’t very long,” said Hermann. “Will it be enough?”

 

Newt shrugged. “Dude, I have lost all sense of what time means anymore. I’m pretty sure four months without the war clock is going to feel like forever.”

 

Hermann nodded. For a moment, he couldn’t speak—Newt was right. What was he going to do with all that time?

 

Newt glanced at his shoes. “I should—”

 

Hermann bit his lip, but the words came out anyway. “Stay. Won’t you?” He swallowed. “Just for tonight.”

 

Newt hesitated. “…Yeah. That’d be… that’d be good.”

 

***

 

Newt stayed the whole night, but in the morning, he started packing up the lab. Hermann stayed in bed for a while longer, thinking about what he wanted to do. Then he got up and went to work.

 

***

 

Hermann had to look up the time difference between Hong Kong and the north of Italy. He was relieved to find it wasn’t terribly late because otherwise he might have lost his nerve.

 

Vanessa answered on the second ring. “How’s the ‘dome?” she said. “No serious partying problems?”

 

Hermann smiled thinly. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve stayed out of that.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Listen. Vanessa. I wanted to ask…” He swallowed and rearranged what he was going to say, so it sounded less intimidating. “I’ve got a flat in Germany, out in the country. I never expected to get to stay there, but it’s—lovely. All one floor, everything designed for people like us. There’s a guest bedroom that has the best view in the house—it looks out on the lake behind it.”

 

Vanessa didn’t say anything. Had he offended her? Then she said, “I don’t speak German.”

 

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent tutor.” He paused. “Granted, that was twenty years ago, but still.”

 

“I’ve always been a quick study anyway,” said Vanessa, her voice soft. “You should come meet me here first, though. We should talk.”

 

“Yes. We should.” He traced a meaningless pattern on his desk. “I’ve just got a few things to take care of, and then I can come meet you, all right?”

 

“Perfect. See you soon.”

 

Did that count as a goodbye?

 

At this point, he supposed he would have to take what he could get.

 

***

 

“Are you quitting on me, Gottlieb?” said Herc when Hermann walked up to him with paperwork in his hands.

 

Hermann smiled thinly. “No, sir.”

 

“Do _not_ call me ‘sir,’” Herc interjected. “None of that. I’m a Marshal now, but that’s just a fancy pin on my shirt.”

 

That inspired a real smile. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “No. It’s not a resignation. I still have research to do. But… I would prefer to do it at home.”

 

“Paternity leave?” Herc raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know. Well, congratulations, Gottlieb.” A shadow passed over his face. “It’ll be the best time of your life. Savor it.”

 

Hermann paused. “I’m—I’m sorry. About everything.”

 

Herc looked away. “He went out fighting. That’s what I tell myself. And he saved the world, so I can’t very well spend all my time feeling bad about it.” He bent down and signed the papers. When he straightened, his eyes were clear. “There. You’ll be back, yeah?”

 

“Of course. I’m the only one who reads the bloody rulebook around here.” He walked off to the sound of the Marshal’s laughter.

 

***

 

Hermann had always liked to think of himself as economical, but it was distressing to see how easily he packed everything up, even though the last five years of his life had been spent moving between the lab and this bedroom. By the end of the day, he had taken care of everything he needed to, from the last of his research to packing up his bedroom. He arranged a flight to Vanessa’s place for the next evening, to give himself adequate time to double-check everything, and went back to his room to make doubly sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

 

Around six in the evening, there was a knock at his door. Newt stood there, fidgeting. A large black suitcase stood beside him, as well as a box labeled _really important kaiju stuff don’t you dare lose me_. “I was hoping you hadn’t left yet,” he said, carefully, as though he had to make sure his mouth wouldn’t betray him.

 

“I would have told you, Newt,” said Hermann, turning to face him. “Unless you’re...”

 

Newt nodded, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah. Herc asked me to go out to Hannibal Chau’s place and see what’s left there. Apparently the whole thing’s sort of fallen apart without him. His people are really paranoid, so nothing’s been picked over yet.”

 

Hermann frowned. “Be careful, Newt.”

 

Newt shrugged. “Chau was the scary one. The rest of ‘em tried, but nothing beats him.” He scuffed his foot along the base of Hermann’s doorframe. “Anyway, I thought… you know.” He walked over and stood beside Hermann’s desk, leaning against it.

 

“What will you do?”

 

Newt shrugged a second time. “Y’know. Bounce a round a little, I think. Figure out what to do with Chau’s stuff. Work on some projects of my own. Maybe go visit Dad and Gunter.” He put his hands behind his head. “I’m trying not to think about it, really. It freaks me out too much. I mean—we can do whatever the fuck we want now, man. Doesn’t that scare you?”

 

Hermann looked at his desk. “I’ve been putting off the idea, yes,” he said at last.

 

“What about you?” Hermann looked up, and Newt’s hands tightened on the desk. “You and Vanessa. What’s going on there?”

 

“She’s going to stay with me for a bit.” Hermann did not look away from Newt’s face because that would have been cowardly. “And I suppose—we’ll see.”

 

Newt glanced at the wall. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we will.” He licked his lips. “Um. I was wondering if you could watch my stuff for me.” He nudged the suitcase. “This is all my personal crap. I can’t send it to Dad or Gunter —you’ve never seen their place. I’d never find it again.”

 

“Of course. I have the space.” Hermann was slightly put out by the request—it seemed so impersonal after everything—but also curious what Newt had decided he needed but could live without for the time being.

 

“Cool. That’s a big help.” Newt rocked forward, away from the desk.

 

“Wait.” Newt glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. Hermann wrote down his address on a scrap of paper. “You already have my number, but you should have this, too. Just in case.”

 

Newt glanced at the paper, smoothing his thumb over the letters. “Yeah. All right. Maybe I’ll get real oldschool and send you a postcard.”

 

“I would like that.” He bit his lip. “Newt—”

 

“Hey. Don’t get dramatic on me. I think we’ve done that song and dance enough.”

 

“I was not going to.” Hermann pursed his lips. “I was just going to tell you that you are not bringing any of your bloody specimens when you come to visit. Do you understand me? Just one conversation without kaiju as the backdrop. That is all I ask of you.”

 

Newt laughed. For the first time in years, it sounded right, and something tight inside of Hermann let go. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that sound. “Will do, man. Will do.” He hesitated, and then the smile came back. “See you in four months, yeah?”

 

Hermann nodded because he suddenly did not trust himself to speak.

 

Newt grinned, though it was careful again. “Don’t worry. I’ll call and shit. I think we’re stuck with each other now.”

 

“We always were,” said Hermann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now comes a lot of stuff I've been sitting on for a while. I'm excited.


	19. Vanessa's Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let out a breath and brought his eyes back to Vanessa’s face, which, frustratingly, was still calm. He wished he wasn’t so bad at this. “Listen, Vanessa. It’s not all—sorted out between Newt and I. I don’t think it ever can be, so—”
> 
> “Hermann, I don’t care about that. You love him. That’s good.” Hermann blinked. Vanessa continued as though she hadn’t said anything at all out of the ordinary. “You two will work out whatever’s between you when you can. That’s all right. Call me impatient, but I want to know what you think about me. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic is officially finished, so updates will speed up now. This one just took a lot of editing.

Walking into the lab and seeing no specimens in jars or dissection equipment was like the first day he came here, all those years ago, and the idea made Hermann’s knees weak. He could not believe how much time had passed and how much had happened within that time.

 

It all belonged to him again. Newt was right. It was terrifying.

 

***

 

He’d left a book in his carry-on bag so he’d have something to entertain himself with on the flight—having access to PPDC transport was useful, but the pilots were never much for conversation, nor were the other passengers. Everyone seemed to be moving around in a state of shock, just like him.

 

He cracked the book, just as he’d promised himself he would. It was a leisure read, something Newt had given to him years ago when he found out about Hermann’s carefully hidden love of Harry Potter. It was his first time touching something not meant for work or research in—

 

God, he didn’t even know how long.

 

Just the thought made him set the book aside. He watched the world pass by out the window until he fell asleep.

 

***

 

Vanessa’s friend picked him up at the airport. She was sweet, if nosy. Hermann wasn’t sure if she was curious about him because he was famous or because he was technically Vanessa’s husband.

 

When she dropped him off, she didn’t stay; apparently, she was going to spend the night at her man’s. Which was good but also terrifying.

 

Hermann didn’t even have to knock; Vanessa had the door open and was leaning against it, smiling carefully. She helped him carry his things in, since there wasn’t much. “We have to put it all in my room, since there isn’t much space elsewhere.”

 

Hermann tried to protest, but then Vanessa showed him her room. It was quite large, with the signs of quick modification—bed on the floor, a railing freshly installed on the wall, a low chair beside a rest for Vanessa’s prosthetic.

 

Vanessa pointed to a spot in front of the closet. “Not much room for you to unpack, but I assumed you won’t be staying long.”

 

Hermann shook his head as he set his things aside. “I should really visit my siblings before I make any concrete plans. Karla’s been at me for a while now, and Dietrich just had a baby. I haven’t even seen pictures yet.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “That means I have to pretend I remember what he named her…”

 

Vanessa smiled. “Then let’s talk so that both of us can get on with things.” It didn’t sound like she was upset, so that was good. “Do you want the chair or the bed?”

 

“I should take the chair. If I get in bed, I will not be getting up again. Plane rides never treat me well.” That was true; the low ache had already started deep in the socket of his hip, the kind that meant he would doubtless the moment his painkillers wore off.

 

“I always look like I’ve never used this thing before the second I get up after any flight longer than five hours. You’d think I’d get used to it with my lifestyle, but—” She shrugged. Once Hermann was settled, she spread out on the bed, lying on her side with her cheek propped on one hand. “So. Before we really get started—you wouldn’t mind regaling me with the lurid details of what happened in Pitfall, would you? They’ve only released the names of the dead to the public, so I know it must’ve been bad, but—”

 

“Considering what we were up against and what we never could have accounted for, I think it went better than it should have. Especially since Raleigh and Mako lived.” He paused. “And so did Newt and I, I suppose. God, he’s rubbing off on me.” He glanced at Vanessa, expecting her to make something of that comment, but her expression was polite and curious, nothing more. “I’ll give you the quick version.”

 

Vanessa was a good listener, but Hermann already knew that. Hermann stopped at Mako and Raleigh’s recovery, because he was still not sure how to talk about his conversation with Newt or if she would want to hear about it. “So no problems with the brain scan?” was her first question.

 

Hermann shook his head. “Not at the preliminary examination, anyway. They want me back in six months, but that’s standard procedure for anyone in K-Science. Blue poisoning is always a risk.” He smiled crookedly. “Don’t bother asking me the odds. I’ve worked them out, and they’re ridiculous, but I’ve learned to expect nothing less.”

 

Vanessa nodded. “Well, that’s good.” She let out a slow breath. “So where’s Newt?”

 

Hermann glanced away; even as he cursed himself for a coward, he knew he couldn’t help it. “Here and there. He said he was going to work on breaking down Hannibal Chau’s lab, and that should keep him in one spot for at least a week. After that, there’s no guessing. Staying in Hong Kong for so long wasn’t good for him. He needs new scenery or he gets—frenetic. More than usual, at least.”

 

He let out a breath and brought his eyes back to Vanessa’s face, which, frustratingly, was still calm. He wished he wasn’t so bad at this. “Listen, Vanessa. It’s not all—sorted out between Newt and I. I don’t think it ever can be, so—”

 

“Hermann, I don’t care about that. You love him. That’s good.” Hermann blinked. Vanessa continued as though she hadn’t said anything at all out of the ordinary. “You two will work out whatever’s between you when you can. That’s all right. Call me impatient, but I want to know what you think about _me_. Now.”

 

Hermann’s mouth twisted to the side in confusion; Vanessa sighed. “We’ve danced around this for months now, and that was fine when you were working on saving the world. But now we have all the time we could ever need to figure out our relationship. And I want us to have a relationship. So. Do you want me or not?”

 

Hermann stared at her. “I—yes? I mean—” He shook his head. “It’s complicated, Vanessa, and I don’t understand why you’re still interested.” He paused. “But, yes, I—I do.”

 

Vanessa smiled and resettled herself, laying her arm along her side so it followed the curve of her hip. “That’s all I care about.”

 

“ _Why_?” The word burst from him. “Why are you still willing after seeing what a mess you’re coming into? I can’t give you anything—clean. No matter what happens between Newt and I, he will still have a part of me.”

 

Vanessa tilted her head, the slightest of smiles on her lips. “You act as though I want all of you. Or as if you would be getting all of me.” Her lips parted, and then she threw back her head and started to laugh.

 

“This is a fine bloody time to be laughing,” said Hermann, glaring at her. “Would you please just explain what you mean?”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I promise.” She scrubbed her hand across her face to calm herself.

 

Hermann scowled, but something about her voice prodded him to believe him. Maybe he just wanted to believe her. Was that really so bad?

 

“It’s just—I’ve finally figured out why I get all mixed up talking to you. It’s Andi and David. I should have just explained when I met you.” She passed her hand over her face again; her expression sobered, and she sat up, tucking her legs underneath herself and looking into Hermann’s face. “It might have saved us both a lot of confusion.”

 

Hermann set his hands on top of his cane. “I’m not following you.”

 

“I know. I’m still not—telling it very well. It’s just… hard to begin.” She reached up and smoothed the hair away from her face. “Could you… sit by me? Please? If it won’t hurt you?”

 

“Of course.” He would be in pain at some point that night; there was no getting around it. Better to be kind.

 

Once he was settled beside her, she picked up his hand and looked at it while she spoke. “I’m all right with it because I’ve been here before—sort of, at least. I told you I was in a relationship when Trespasser happened. It was—a bit more complicated than that. You see, I had a girlfriend in high school—Andi. And I loved her a lot, but she didn’t want me to go into the navy, and I had to, to pay for college. So we broke up, and I thought that was that.” She swallowed. “Then—then I actually went to college, and… there she was. But—she had a boyfriend. David.”

 

A couple of things began to make sense in Hermann’s mind, but he didn’t speak, in case he was wrong. Anyway, Vanessa looked like she was going to keep speaking.

 

She flexed her fingers, pursing her lips. “We—well. Put it this way. I thought David was in the way, and that I would be allowed to forget about Andi, and that would be that. Only—I was wrong. In the best way.”

 

“So it was the—the three of you?” said Hermann. He was staring at her not because he was surprised she had been polyamorous, but because he couldn’t believe he hadn’t guessed that already.

 

Vanessa tipped her head from side to side. “Well—not at first. At first, it was David and Andi, and Andi and me, and that was all right. But then my lease was up, and I moved in with them, and I started to get to know David better—it all just sort of… worked out.” She dropped her eyes. “I know I’m leaving a lot out—it’s just still difficult. I tried to—bury all of this, after what happened. I thought it would be easier, but… well, then I met you, and I started thinking of them again. Not because you’re anything like either of them, but the situation’s sort of the same. And I realized that I—that I liked that reminder. So that was why I started spending so much time with you. I could finally think on the past without pain. Maybe that’s selfish? I don’t know.”

 

“Hardly,” said Hermann. “I understand the feeling.”

 

Her mind was still in the past. “I know it wasn’t perfect. I can remember that. But… it doesn’t seem much like that matters anymore. It was good, and I was happy, and I—” She swallowed and leaned forward over the slight swell of her stomach, as though it comforted her. “It was good. I wish it could have lasted.”

 

Hermann let go of her hand so he could put his arms around her, because her face was streaked with pain, and that was more important than the thoughts rattling around in his brain.

 

Vanessa sat still for a moment. Then she straightened up and hugged him back, tucking her cheek alongside his neck as though she had always been there.

 

She slid out of his hold and looked at him. “It’ll get more complicated when Newt gets back, but complicated is nothing to be afraid of. If you want me and I want you, then it doesn’t matter that you want Newt and he wants you. So I’m asking you again—do you want me?”

 

Hermann looked at her for a long moment—not because he wasn’t sure how to answer, but just because he wanted to look at her. Then he leaned forward and cupped her cheek with one hand, positioning her face so he could kiss her easily and deeply. She leaned into him; he could feel her smiling against his mouth.

 

Then she drew back. “If we’re going to do anything—” she paused and glanced at his face, as though to double-check, and all he could do was smile at her, but that seemed to be enough because she nodded, “—then I need to take care of something first.” She rolled up the hem of her skirt, then paused, glancing sidelong at him.

 

Hermann got the hint, and it flattered him. They understood this aspect of each other better than anyone else could; plenty of people had been scarred by the war, but not like them. He found the catches that held the prosthetic in place and undid them.

 

She caught the prosthetic before it could fall and set it aside. “Now then.” Her hands came up to his face, and they kissed again, slow and thoughtful. His fingers itched to undo the buttons of her blouse, but he kept still, focusing on her lips against his. She broke the kiss to make a face at him. “I told you, I’m not fond of the Victorians. Don’t half-ass it.”

 

“I don’t half-ass anything,” he said, only annoyed because he was embarrassed. “I’m _methodical_.”

 

“Well, methodical had better not take all night—I’m sorry, but you have no idea what getting pregnant _does_. To me, anyway.”

 

He laughed, and then she started laughing, and it got simpler from there. He worked on the buttons of her blouse from the bottom up, and she unbuttoned his shirt from the top down. Their arms got tangled somewhere in the middle. Vanessa made an irritated noise and pulled her shirt over her head so she could toss it at the corner of the room. Hermann finished unbuttoning his shirt and set it aside.

 

He reached for the clasp of her bra and found it was exactly as difficult to undo as it had been when he was sixteen touching a girl under her shirt for the first time. Vanessa muttered something against his mouth that sounded suspiciously like _men_ and undid the clasp herself; Hermann chose to ignore this in favor of kissing his way down her neck to the top of her collarbone.

 

“Teeth,” she said, tipping her head back. Her fingers dug into the base of his spine.

 

He dragged his teeth along her collarbone to the notch; she let out a low groan. Her hand slid lower to palm his erection. As she worked on his belt, he dragged his tongue down the line of her breastbone, then kissed his way to her nipple.

 

“Careful—I want it, but careful,” she said, pulling his belt free. She threw it at the wall, which Hermann did not think was necessary, but he was used to people throwing clothes around in the bedroom.

 

Well. One person.

 

He nodded and gently flicked his tongue over her nipple. She made a noise; he glanced up to make sure it was a good noise and continued when he saw it was. She undid the button of his fly and pulled down the zipper so she could slide her hand down to the thatch just above his erection.

 

Hermann twitched. “And I thought _my_ hands were always cold,” he said, straightening up. She pulled her hand free at once, about to apologize, but Hermann seized the opportunity to take her hand and press his lips to her palm.

 

“Fine, then,” said Vanessa, though she was smiling in an embarrassed way that Hermann liked very much, “you get your pants off yourself.”

 

“It will be easier that way in any case.” Hermann slid his lips down so he could lightly bite her bracelet of fortune, which made her shiver.

 

Hermann shifted so he could pull off his pants without having to get up—he hadn’t been joking when he said he wouldn’t be able to get up out of the bed once he sat on it. Vanessa turned her head: not out of shyness, but to pull down the zipper on the side of her skirt. Hermann allowed himself a moment to appreciate the perfection of her left breast in profile before he focused on getting undressed.

 

She was wearing black lace panties. “I got these from Chelsea,” she said, and it was the first time she had ever sounded truly embarrassed, “so don’t think I was—expecting anything. I’m not that vain.” She paused and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “I was hoping, certainly, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t laundry day.”

 

“I would never presume, my dear,” said Hermann, keeping his voice mild but allowing a hint of a smirk to touch his lips.

 

She turned to look at him. “You are a shit, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

Newt had been right after all. It _was_ a turn-on.

 

Vanessa cleared her throat. “Before we get any further—I don’t have any condoms.”

 

Hermann considered this, checking to make sure he was correct before he said anything. He was aroused, but that was no reason to get them both in trouble. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since Newt, and both of us were always clean.”

 

“I have always been very cautious.” She smirked. “And for once, I don’t have to be paranoid about getting pregnant. Perfect.”

 

They kissed. He let his fingers drift beneath the band of her panties.

 

“Don’t be a tease,” said Vanessa, huffing against his mouth. “I’ve had to put up with that for months, and it is not good enough.”

 

“I will certainly try to make up for it.”

 

“You’d better.”

 

He deepened the kiss and slid his hand down to her center, already wet and waiting. Once his fingertip was slick, he murmured, “How do you prefer it?”

 

“Well—” She covered his hand with hers, carefully positioning his middle finger. “Like flicking a light switch. Only gentler.”

 

He tried it; her eyes slid closed, and she leaned back against the wall to allow him better access. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and repeated the motion. When she nodded again, he continued. With his other hand, he rolled down her panties so he could slide a single finger inside of her. He moved slowly, trying to remember the motion. When she squirmed and dug her fingers into his good hip, he figured he had found the right trick.

 

He went slowly. Not because he wanted to draw things out, but just because he wanted to study her: the way she bit her lip; the perfect curl of her hair; how her eyes grew hooded and her back arched. She made a low noise in her throat and tightened around his fingers, so he increased his speed, drawing his fingers against that tightness to increase it even more.

 

She let out a breathy gasp and turned her head so she could kiss him. He dragged his teeth along her bottom lip and kept working both fingers. Suddenly, she dropped her head back, pulsing around his finger and shivering.

 

Hermann carefully pulled his hand free and kissed the corner of her jaw. “Was that enough, or—?”

 

Vanessa let out a low laugh. “You’d think I’d stop being surprised when the buttoned-up ones are good in bed.” She kissed him hard and nipped his chin when she pulled away. “No, I don’t want anything else right this minute. Can we—”

 

He caught her meaning; he was too aroused to be embarrassed. “It’ll take a bit of doing, but—yes.”

 

“Believe me when I say that I am used to it.” She moved away from the wall so Hermann could settle against it instead. He was going to pay for this later, but honestly he couldn’t give a damn.

 

Vanessa slipped out of her panties in a neat motion, then rolled his underwear down. Her eyes were on his face, but one hand lazily moved over his cock, stroking the head so she could coat her palm in precum. “Can I just sort of kneel—?”

 

Hermann nodded. “If that is all right for you.”

 

“Not for a super-long time, but I don’t think it will take that long. Do you?”

 

 _That_ made him blush, and she threw her head back and laughed. “Come off it,” he said, glancing away even though he couldn’t stop smiling himself. “I haven’t been with a woman in years, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t do anything to work on your endurance over that time.” She raised her eyebrows in a most suggestive manner.

 

Hermann shrugged, allowing a bit of a smirk to touch his lips. “Yes, but speaking as someone who’s had it both ways—the one does not apply to the other. At least, not for me. And—it has been a while.”

 

“Mmm.” She leaned forward and kissed him again. “Let me know if this is good.”

 

She positioned herself on top of him, carefully; her arms bore most of her weight as she lowered herself onto his length.

 

He dug his fingers into her thighs. “Yes, perfect,” he managed, although at that point he probably would have said anything she wanted.

 

Vanessa bit her lip, looking at him through hooded eyes. “Good. _Oh_.”

 

It took them a moment to find a rhythm, but soon he was rising to meet her as she ground her hips. He buried his hand in his hair as he kissed her. He really _had_ forgotten what this was like—not just being with a woman, but losing himself so completely in another person that he wasn’t sure where they ended and he began. Sex at the end of his time with Newt had always been rushed, since they were both distracted by whatever argument the interrupted.

 

At some point, her hand slid between them, working against herself in quick thrusts. He made himself slow down; only when she tightened around him and gasped against his neck did he allow himself to slip away into the sensation. His own orgasm followed in a burst of stars behind his eyes a moment later.

 

His head fell back against the wall. Vanessa pressed her lips to the base of his jaw, then slipped away. “That was wonderful, but I am going to die right now if I do not pee.”

 

Hermann just nodded, still staring at the ceiling. When she left the room, he straightened, wincing slightly as his hip reminded him that it was still made of ball bearings and broken glass. He picked through his clothes until he found a handkerchief in the back pocket of his pants, which he used to clean himself off.

 

When that was taken care of, he slid his underwear back on and pressed one hand against his forehead. Had that really just happened?

 

If nothing else, the peaceful way he felt was proof of that.

 

And he did feel peaceful. Vanessa’s words had struck a chord with him. They had the rest of their lives to work out the exact details of who they were and what they wanted. He could slow down. He could breathe. He could _think._

 

***

 

When Vanessa came back, she went to the closet and found a sheer nightgown which really didn’t seem to accomplish its goal, but Hermann was not going to tell her that. It was a lovely nightgown, and he was enjoying being allowed to stare at her.

 

She glanced at him and hesitated. There was a nervousness in her eyes he had never seen before. “So, um, I don’t know. Are you the kind of person who likes—sleeping together?”

 

He looked at her blankly. “Is that a bad thing…?”

 

She twisted her fingers. Now there was not embarrassment in her eyes, but the quiet thoughtfulness from before. He frowned, wondering what the matter was. “I probably should have told you this before, but I can’t—” She took in a breath. “I can’t sleep in the same bed as another person. It’s just—non-negotiable.”

 

He blinked. “Am I supposed to be upset about that?” He squinted up at her. “Vanessa, love, you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on with you, because I can tell you right now that if you expect me to guess, I will never get it right. That is not among my gifts.”

 

She glanced away. Despite what he’d just said, that was all Hermann needed to see.

 

“Oh,” he said, and dropped his eyes. “I didn’t realize—”

 

She opened her mouth and closed it again, then crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed once more. She undid her prosthetic and spread her fingers over the scar tissue at the end of her thigh. “You never asked me,” she said, her voice very soft. “I can never get people into bed without them asking, at least once. Not that I answer. But they ask.”

 

Hermann swallowed. “I know how it is. That’s why. It’s nice to know someone who doesn’t look at you and see—that.”

 

“Well, it’s part of me. Just like it’s part of you. And sometimes—it is nice. To have someone look.” She moved her hand, uncovering the tissue.

 

Hermann picked up her hand and pressed it to the scar on his own hip. “You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated. “I already know.”

 

She looked at him, and there was a light in her eyes that made him feel weak but wonderful. “You do.”

 

They stayed there for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes with Vanessa are nice because she is capable of communicating like a human adult. Most of the time.
> 
> There is one more sex scene coming, but I am not telling who is involved.


	20. Postcards from Newt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Newt? Are you all right?”
> 
> “Uh.” Newt cleared his throat. “So far?” He coughed. “Okay, short version of the story. Hannibal Chau’s not dead, he’s not happy with me picking over his lab, and he said, and I quote, ‘I will gut you like a pig at a redneck wedding if you don’t find my goddamn shoe.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are scenes that I've had in my head since starting this fic, so I was very happy to finally get to them. :D

Vanessa agreed to meet him at his place in Germany in a week, once she had set her things in order and once Hermann had his fill of his family.

 

He hadn’t thought he’d missed them, but that was yet another thing he’d misunderstood about himself.

 

***

 

He’d thought moving in with Vanessa would be difficult. Lovers always wore on him—they never understood how much time it took him to process anything, and so they never let him alone, and so he snapped at them when he could no longer hold off the need for a moment of silence.

 

But Vanessa went to her own room to sleep, so he was always guaranteed some time: to read articles and detective novels; to sketch out ideas for textbooks; simply to breathe and collect himself.

 

Also, Vanessa was also a private person. She seemed happiest in silence, just like him: she would sit reading for hours, or just sitting outside admiring the view of the lake. She said that she used to paint, so she set up the front sitting room as a work area. Hermann did not often intrude, just as she did not come into his office.

 

They settled in together quietly, but they were not leading separate lives. They argued about the direction the PPDC was headed—Vanessa thought it was the only rational choice, but Hermann was, as usual, disgusted with their tendency to ignore science for the sake of publicity—or they sat together on the couch, watching each other’s favorite movies and picking each other’s brains about them. They were not parallel; they were tangential.

 

It was a bit like a dream, those few months, especially after the chaos of his life before. But it wasn’t perfect. Not because he sometimes woke dreaming of a world with a burned-out sun and a screaming, impossible sky; not because sometimes Vanessa was so far away he wondered if he would ever know all of her.

 

No. Sometimes he had to pull down the sleeves of his shirt because he thought he should have tattoos. Sometimes he caught himself humming a song he’d never liked. Sometimes he woke alone in the middle of the night and wished for someone beside him.

 

***

 

Newt was here and there through those few months, though, and Hermann was glad of it, because sometimes he woke up and could almost forget that his life had been different, that this wasn’t something he chose all by himself. And that—that was not true, and that was not what he wanted.

 

***

 

The first time, Hermann woke in the middle of the night because his mobile was buzzing. “I’ve told you, I’m on bloody paternity leave,” he snapped at the phone. No one at the PPDC seemed to understand the concept of “time zones.”

 

“Hahah, um, that’s cool,” said Newt, nervously. He was talking very quickly, even for him.

 

Hermann nearly fell out of bed. “ _Newt_?” he said, jerking upright. “Where are you?” Despite himself, he glanced around, as though the connection created during their Drift was a physical tie Hermann could use to follow Newt.

 

“Still in Hong Kong, um, yeah, but that’s not important.” He squeaked. Hermann glanced at his phone to make sure it wasn’t malfunctioning. “Listen, um— _look dude cut that the fuck out I don’t care if you’re some creepy kaiju zombie I am not a goddamn punching bag_ —”

 

“Newt? Are you all right?”

 

“Uh.” Newt cleared his throat. “So far?” He coughed. “Okay, short version of the story. Hannibal Chau’s not dead, he’s not happy with me picking over his lab, and he said, and I quote, ‘I will gut you like a pig at a redneck wedding if you don’t find my goddamn shoe.’”

 

Hermann blinked, trying to process all of that. He stepped on the part of him that wanted to yell at Newt. Yelling could come later, when Newt was not being threatened by a psychopath. “Can I… help you with that? Somehow?”

 

“Um, yeah, if you can get on Skype or something, the shoe’s in my big black bag. I promise it’s not covered in kaiju goo. I cleaned it up.” He coughed. “Yeah, just, um, show him the shoe. _Fuck’s sake I told you it’s fucking there just give me two fucking seconds_ —”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him like that, Newt,” said Hermann, getting out of bed. Newt ignored him, shouting insults that ranged from obscene to ridiculous.

 

Newt’s things were tucked in a side closet. He went to it and laid Newt’s black bag flat before attempting to open it. From his experience with Newt’s packing, everything would fall out if he tried to open it while it was still vertical.

 

There it was, buried underneath a few back issues of Shonen Jump. Hermann had to blink to banish memories that were not his own—the smell of fetal kaiju, screeching, blood. When he had control of himself, he put the phone back to his ear. “Newt? Are you still there?”

 

“Yep, yep, haven’t really moved an inch ‘cause he’s got his fucking knife up on my carotid, but, you know, no big deal. Thanks for hurrying, Hermann, baby, sweetie, _would you stop with the fucking hairy eyeball the shoe is right goddamn here_ —”

 

“I’m opening Skype now.”

 

“Gotcha. See you in two seconds. _Hey what’s the fucking wi-fi password oldster?_ ”

 

Hermann hoped that Hannibal Chau heard “oldster” as a term of respect and did not gut Newt while Hermann fumbled to get video chat set up. Newt’s screen name (nosinkaiju) appeared a moment after the program started. He held the camera up to the shoe, hoping his video quality was good enough.

 

“See?” said Newt’s voice, distant and crackling. “There’s your fucking shoe, okay? I told you.”

 

“Good,” said a voice Hermann did not know but recognized all the same. It made him stiffen. It really was Hannibal Chau. “Now ask the nice math man to send my shoe to me, and everything will be okay.” There was a soft clicking sound that Hermann recognized as Hannibal shutting his butterfly knife. Hermann sighed in relief.

 

Newt and Hannibal appeared in the camera. “Can you, like, super-fast mail it here? I’ll pay you back or whatever.”

 

“Of course, Newt,” said Hermann, turning his phone around so Newt could see him. “Mr. Chau. It’s—a pleasure.”

 

Hannibal smirked at Hermann’s slight hesitation. “Always a pleasure doing business with the K-science division.” He turned to Newt. “Now say goodbye. We got deals to work out, kid.”

 

Newt brought the camera closer to his face. “Hey, um, thanks for that. You doing okay?”

 

Hermann frowned at him, but not harshly. “I should be asking you that question. Why am I not surprised you got yourself into trouble?”

 

“How was I supposed to know he was still alive? He got eaten by Kodachi _right in front of me_.” A sharp whistle came from off-screen. “ _Oh my God I am not a fucking dog_.” Newt cleared his throat and refocused on Hermann’s face. “So. Um. Three months. Yeah?”

 

Hermann resisted the urge to touch the screen. It wasn’t like Newt would feel it. “Three months,” he answered.

 

Newt smiled at him. Then the screen went dark.

 

***

 

Hermann sent the shoe off the moment the post office in town opened the next morning.

 

A day later, he got a text: _thx for the shoe man. saved my balls._

 

A few minutes later: _lots of kaiju stuff for me to play with. not the same without u yelling at me._

 

Hermann texted back: _I miss you too, Newt._

 

***

 

Vanessa felt confident enough in her painting to redecorate the guest bedroom, which would hold the baby’s bed as well as her own. Between other projects, Hermann constructed a mobile he found online: tiny planets and comets, with the lunar lander in the center.

 

***

 

A month later, Hermann got an envelope in the mail. Inside was a postcard from Hong Kong and a selfie of Newt with a pair Hermann recognized as Hannibal Chau’s right-hand man and woman.

 

Scribbled on the back of the postcard: _Done going through Chau’s stuff. He’s not so bad once you get past the breath. He gave me all the stuff he couldn’t sell. It’s going back to the lab for whenever I get around to it. Gonna hop around first, I think. Maybe go visit the guys from BVR. Two months._

 

Hermann texted him: _Two months._

 

***

 

At some point near the end of February, Vanessa decided they had skipped an important honeymoon milestone: having sex on every surface available. Hermann agreed that this was an important part of anyone’s married experience.

 

Vanessa did not view either of their disabilities or her advanced state of pregnancy as a handicap. Instead, they assured an interesting time for everyone involved.

 

***

 

Early in March, Hermann looked up from his reading with an odd thought in the back of his mind.

 

“What is it?” said Vanessa, glancing up at him. She was not lying with her head in his lap, but it was a close matter.

 

“I feel like—” He frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Like I’ve left the oven on.”

 

Vanessa blinked. “We went out for breakfast. And stayed in for lunch.”

 

The reminder brought a touch of color to his cheeks, but Hermann could not shake the strange sense. It was almost as if—

 

He took his phone from his pocket and texted Newt. _Where are you?_

 

No answer for a long while. Hermann thought maybe he’d imagined it, although he could not seem to bring his mind back to his book and gave up, settling for combing his fingers through Vanessa’s curls.

 

Finally, after an hour, his phone went off. _berlin. mom wanted to see me. figured id be nice._

 

A moment later. _so u feel it too?_

 

Hermann didn’t answer that. He wasn’t sure how.

 

***

 

That night, when Hermann was just beginning to fall asleep, burning spread across his shoulders. He jerked awake, wondering if he had developed some new disease—but no, the pain was all in his head. When he stretched his shoulders, it disappeared like a dream upon waking.

 

Or like Drift flashbacks.

 

Hermann rubbed his shoulder, then took out his phone. _Are you finally getting your backpiece?_

 

That one never received a reply, but Hermann woke at periodic intervals feeling like he’d fallen asleep outside and received a bad sunburn for his trouble.

 

***

 

Vanessa finished the paintings in her room at the end of March. Once she had all the paint supplies moved out, Hermann moved the crib in and hung the mobile over it while she was out getting groceries.

 

“You did this?” she said when she walked in her room.

 

Hermann shrugged, unsure what to make of her tone. “I’m an engineer. I’m not going to let anyone else assemble something so important.”

 

She looked at him for a moment. Then she took his face in both her hands and kissed him in a calm, thorough way that made Hermann feel like maybe the world was saved. That it was all over.

 

***

 

After, when Hermann was stretched out on the couch and Vanessa was leaning against the coffee table, he looked over at her and could not keep the question behind his lips where it belonged. “Vanessa—”

 

“Mmm?” she said, without opening her eyes. One hand traced the swell of her stomach, absently.

 

“Is this enough? I mean—” She opened her eyes; the sharpness of her stare still intimidated him, even though he knew now that she was concentrating, not upset. “Sometimes I still feel like it’s asking a lot. For you to put your life on hold like this.”

 

“It would be on hold anyway,” said Vanessa, patting her belly. “I want to spend that time with you.” She got up—it was a difficult affair these days—and bent so she could kiss him on the forehead. Then she paused, putting her palm where her lips had been.

 

Hermann watched her. He was not nervous, to his surprise. Perhaps because Vanessa had never done anything to make him nervous.

 

“You keep talking about this,” she said, slowly, “as though it’s some great burden on me.” Her eyes met his; they were sharp again, and this time it _was_ intimidating because she was focused so completely on him. “And I don’t see how that pans out. This is the first time in my life in years where I’ve spent time with someone who hears me when I talk. When I’m not eating shit and kissing up to people I hate for the sake of something that’s bigger than me.”

 

She stroked her thumb over his forehead. “You let me be myself in a way I haven’t gotten to be in so long, and all you ask is for a little bit of patience while you sort yourself out.” She paused again and bit her lip. “And if it changes later—that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, I have you, and it’s good. Isn’t it?”

 

He stared at her for a moment. Then he picked up her hand so he could kiss her palm. “Yes, dear. It is.”


	21. Isaac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _baby?_
> 
> Hermann sat up, rubbing his forehead. Technically, Isaac arrived a week before his due date, although the doctor had said Vanessa looked very well along at the last check-up two days before. _How did you know?_
> 
> _rush of endorphins consistent w/ parent seeing child for 1st time._
> 
> _don’t tell me ur not his dad. close enough._

Hermann did not read any baby or parenting books. He knew from experience that attempting to prepare for the baby’s coming would simply work him into a frenzy of anxiety, and Vanessa would not stand for that.

 

Anyway, he was good at coming up with scenarios on his own. What if he was out of the house? What if she fell? What if it was raining on the way to the hospital? What if there were complications with the anesthesia?

 

One would think that years spent imagining the end of the world in ever more detailed and mathematically precise configurations would have provided Hermann some way to stop himself from asking these questions. One would be wrong.

 

***

 

As it happened, Isaac Barsetti came into the world in a simple, uncomplicated fashion. That didn’t stop Hermann from fretting himself sick during the entire procedure. Vanessa laughed at him, but that might have just been the pain medication.

 

Only when Isaac was safely asleep in the infant ward, awaiting a pair of routine tests for kaiju-related issues, did Hermann realize that all the time he’d felt a tickle at the back of his mind.

 

***

 

The text came when Hermann was just nodding off. Vanessa was thoroughly asleep, and Hermann was wondering when, exactly, they would get to go home.

 

Then: _baby?_

  
  


Hermann sat up, rubbing his forehead. Technically, Isaac arrived a week before his due date, although the doctor had said Vanessa looked very well along at the last check-up two days before. _How did you know?_

  
  


_rush of endorphins consistent w/ parent seeing child for 1st time._

 

_don’t tell me ur not his dad. close enough._

  
  


Hermann stared at the phone. _Where are you?_ He considered adding more than one question mark, but that was gauche.

 

_berlin again. but im gettin on a train. c u in like 6 hours._

 

Hermann put his phone away and tried to go back to sleep because it had been a long day, but instead he found himself sitting still except for his good leg, restlessly joggling in a way that did not belong to him.

 

***

 

Newt texted him again, asking for the hospital’s name. When he asked for the room number, Hermann responded, _Never mind that. I’ll meet you out front._

  
  


The urge to call was overwhelming, but Hermann resisted. Instead, he went to Vanessa’s side. She was still sleeping, but she came awake when he brushed the hair from her face. “Feeling all right?” he murmured.

 

“This bed feels like it’s made of concrete, but otherwise I’m good.” She smacked her lips. “Any word on those tests yet?”

 

Hermann shook his head. “Do you want to see him?”

 

To his surprise, Vanessa shook her head. “I’ve spent nine months with him now, and I have the next eighteen-ish years to look forward to. I think I can live without it for a little while. Anyway, I _know_ this is the last bit of uninterrupted sleep I will get for at least six months.”

 

“All good points.” He bent to kiss her forehead and said, carefully, “Newt is here. Or—he will be. In a few hours.”

 

“Tell him hello for me.” She yawned. “And that if he wakes me up, I will tell you what he said to me at poker night.”

 

Hermann blinked. “What—”

 

“Hermann Gottlieb, I like you very much, but I am not sacrificing my blackmail for you,” said Vanessa. “I am going back to sleep now.” And she did.

 

***

 

Hermann kept track of the time, but in the end, it wasn’t necessary. His sense of Newt grew like an itch he could not scratch, until he was rolling up his sleeves to check that his arms had not grown tattoos. 

 

He was not sure what he expected Newt to look like. He felt like there ought to be some change, but except for a new jacket and new Doc Martens, Newt was dressed the same as he always did outside of the lab—jeans that were too tight, a shirt with a pop culture reference no one understood anymore.

 

The jacket caught Hermann’s attention because he was overwhelmed. He’d meant to say something—well, good. He hadn’t figured what, but something good.

 

Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “Is that _kaiju_ leather?”

 

Newt stopped a few feet away and glanced at the jacket as though he’d forgotten he was wearing it. “Oh, yeah. Hannibal gave it to me. I was kind of too freaked out to say no, and I needed a new coat anyway. So… yeah.” The sad thing was that he did not appear at all surprised that Hermann had greeted him so.

 

Hermann’s lips parted, but he realized he did not yet have words to say. Newt shrugged, as though he understood the feeling.

 

After a moment, Hermann said, “Come _here_ , you idiot,” and though it was sharp, it was sharp in the right way. Or, at least, Newt obliged, stepping forward so Hermann could pull him into an embrace, and he hugged Hermann as hard as Hermann hugged him.

 

Being with Newt again felt like turning on a light in a dark room and finding everything just the way Hermann had left it. Had it always been this way, or was that the Drift?

 

Did that matter?

 

***

 

They stood a careful distance apart, looking in at the babies. “He’s third from the left in the front row,” said Hermann, although that was pointless because all the other babies were white.

 

“Kinda figured,” said Newt, leaning so far forward that his nose touched the glass. “He’s so cuuuuute. I forgot how much I love babies. What did you name him?”

 

“Isaac.” Newt looked at him sideways, and Hermann shook his head. “It was Vanessa’s idea.”

 

“She all right?”

 

Hermann nodded, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Fine. Tired, for obvious reasons.” He let out a breath. “Let’s go back to the room. I’m—”

 

“Sore. I know.” Newt grinned crookedly at him.

 

Hermann dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry about that."

 

“It’s not like I care. I can finally do calculus in my head, so that’s pretty cool, I guess?” He hesitated, walking backwards in front of Hermann. The habit was both familiar and strange at the same time. It had been so long. “Although really, man. There’s no reason for you to be living like this.” Newt yanked on his sleeve. “Come on, dude. The world’s not ending anymore. You’ve got time for a couple of surgeries.”

 

Hermann shrugged. “It’s not as simple as it sounds,” he said softly. “I’d think you’d realize that after some time spent in my head.”

 

Newt’s face softened. “Well, yeah, but—” He huffed. “It sucks. I want you to feel better.” He turned the right way ‘round when they reached the door to Vanessa’s room. “Besides. You’ll have a little kid to chase pretty soon. Don’t you want to be able to keep up?”

 

That thought was overwhelming. Instead, Hermann said, “Quietly now. Vanessa says she’ll gut you if you wake her up.”

 

Newt opened his mouth, then laughed. When Hermann raised his eyebrows, Newt said, “Y’know, Hannibal said that to me all the time. I thought I’d never be scared of anyone else. But. Nope. Vanessa is terrifying.”

 

“There you are. Speaking sense for once in your life,” said Hermann, and gestured for Newt to go in first.

 

***

 

To his surprise, Newt managed to keep quiet, or perhaps Vanessa was just a hard sleeper. Newt told him he and Chau had negotiated a good deal for the kaiju parts, since Chau had grunt workers but no scientists. The PPDC got any scientific discoveries; Hannibal got to figure out how to make a profit.

 

“Everyone wins,” said Newt with a nervous laugh.

 

“I’m impressed you made it out of there intact,” said Hermann, smiling sideways at him.

 

Newt laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I dunno how I managed it either. I think it was ‘cause nobody took me seriously enough to wanna kill me.” He coughed. “Hannibal’s not so bad, once you get to know him. He’s just crazy as hell.”

 

Hermann just shook his head.

 

***

 

“So did you get that backpiece?” Hermann asked.

 

It was meant to be a harmless question to fill a silence brought on by things neither of them were yet ready to talk about, but Newt started. “Uh, what?”

 

Hermann raised his eyebrows. “Of the triple event. I—I felt it, I thought. Across your shoulderblades.”

 

Newt paused, his jaw working. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Any time I came back to Germany, my hip started hurting again.” He let out a breath. “Yeah, I did, but—”

 

“But?” Hermann was amused. He’d never thought Newt would miss the chance to jabber on about his tattoos.

 

“ _But_  it’s none of your business.” He stuck his tongue out at Hermann.

 

Was he _blushing_?

 

“What did you get?” Hermann asked, raising his eyebrows. 

 

He bit his lip. “Look, you’ll see it eventually, okay, so don’t bug me about it.”

 

Hermann had no idea what to make of that.

 

***

 

The nurse finally returned. Hermann woke up Vanessa, just in time to hear that all tests were normal. Isaac was as healthy as any child could be.

 

“Excellent,” said Vanessa, rubbing her eyes. “Now the fun starts.”

 

They collected Isaac. Newt offered to carry their things out to the car, which was sweet, but it made Hermann realize something. “You’re not staying,” he said softly as they got Isaac settled in the back of the car.

 

Newt swallowed. At least the look in his eyes suggested he wanted to deny it. “Well—” He cleared his throat, leaning against the side of the car. Hermann glanced at Vanessa, but she was apparently ignoring the both of them. “No. I—I want to.” Newt’s finger’s brushed Hermann’s. “But I’m working on some stuff now—not PPDC stuff. Personal things. It’s—it’s for the two of you. Because I was a douche about it.”

 

Hermann frowned. “Newt—”

 

“Vanessa knows more of it than you do if you’re saying I wasn’t a douche.” Newt’s eyes flicked to her, nervously, but she was still ignoring them. “Um. I was. At least, before. And I want to make up for it, so—I’m getting something together. Only I had to call in some favors, so it took longer than I wanted.”

 

Hermann took in a breath, trying to decide how he felt about it. “I’m starting to get used to you slipping in and out of my life again." It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat; there was too much truth in it.

 

Newt opened his mouth and closed it again. “Well, I told you I wasn’t good at staying in one place.” He took Hermann’s hand and squeezed it. “But I also said I’d come back, and I meant it. I mean it now. Just—a little more time, that’s all.”

 

Hermann nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like imagining how people in the PacRim world get on despite the massive levels of pollution, radiation, and destruction they all have to deal with on a regular basis. Every baby must get checked like crazy for birth defects.


	22. Automail Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt just showed up one night, which was not surprising because Hermann had woken up feeling sunburn across his back for the last two nights. 
> 
> Newt was wearing a backpack—the same one he’d left with, although it was tattered and bulging—and pulling a large black plastic suitcase. “I was gonna call you,” said Newt, as though Hermann had asked, “but my plane was late and they were being bitches about it.”
> 
> Hermann rolled his eyes. “As though I am the least bit surprised. Come inside.”

In the end, it was good that Newt didn’t stay; it gave everyone time to get settled. Hermann and Vanessa took turns sleeping in the baby’s room, ostensibly so both of them wouldn’t be woken, but both of them ended up waking up anyway. It wasn’t like either of them had serious work to do at the moment, since Hermann’s PPDC stipend would not run out for another two months.

 

Isaac was only fitful at night anyway. Most of the day he seemed content to lie in his crib or on a blanket, sucking on a stuffed animal shaped like a gecko that Newt had bought from the hospital gift shop before he left. Hermann had worried that Isaac wouldn’t take to him—babies could usually sense non-baby-people—but Isaac was just as happy in his arms as Vanessa’s.

 

 _I’ve got a routine now_ , he texted Newt one day, when Isaac was almost a month and a half old. _Are you coming ‘round to muck it up soon?_

 

_course i am babe. almost done._

 

***

 

He and Vanessa speculated back and forth about Newt’s strange project, but in the end, it surprised them.

 

Newt just showed up one night, which was _not_ surprising because Hermann had woken up feeling sunburn across his back for the last two nights. 

 

Newt was wearing a backpack—the same one he’d left with, although it was tattered and bulging—and pulling a large black plastic suitcase. “I was gonna call you,” said Newt, as though Hermann had asked, “but my plane was late and they were being bitches about it.”

 

Hermann rolled his eyes. “As though I am the least bit surprised. Come inside.”

 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Hermann glanced at him, surprised Newt would think to ask such a question. “With the baby.”

 

Hermann blinked. “Oh. No. We haven’t put him to bed yet. Come see.”

 

Newt kicked off his shoes and lined them up by the door, another thing Hermann would never have counted on him doing. He set his backpack and the strange black suitcase against the wall, then followed Hermann to the sitting room.

 

Vanessa was stretched out on the couch with Isaac on her stomach. “Hello, Newt. Hermann, get this creature off me.”

 

Hermann obliged. Isaac made sleepy noises of protests, which ceased when Hermann handed him to Newt. Isaac adored new people; he stared at Newt’s face with a sage expression despite Newt’s delighted noise.

 

“Babyyyyy,” Newt whispered, pressing his cheek to Isaac’s. “Little kids are the best, man.” Isaac batted at his cheek, as though to protest such an undignified comment.

 

Vanessa sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Are you staying this time?” Hermann was glad she had asked, so he didn’t have to.

 

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Y’know. If you guys want me to.”

 

“It will be good to have someone else to take that monster.” She sat up, stretching. “We should put the baby to bed. So we can talk.” She raised her eyebrows at the two of them.

 

“It’s my turn,” said Hermann, feeling cowardly even though it was true.

 

Vanessa smiled like a cat and patted the space beside her on the couch. “That’s good. It means Newt and I can catch up.”

 

“Please don’t let her eat me,” said Newt, turning to Hermann.

 

“Darling, there you are on your own,” said Hermann. He was so focused on taking the baby from Newt that he did not realize the word had slipped out until he saw the confused but pleased expression on Newt’s face. Hermann cleared his throat. “So. I’ll be right back.”

 

He walked off to the bedroom, trying not to think about what was going to happen next.

 

***

 

When he finished with Isaac—Isaac almost never fussed before bed, but it was hard to ensure he was really asleep—Hermann returned to the living room, to find Newt measuring the length of Vanessa’s shortened leg. “Um—”

 

Newt jerked back, the tape measure snapping his finger as it closed. As he cursed, Hermann looked to Vanessa, blinking. “Don’t ask me,” said Vanessa, shrugging. “He just told me he needed to double-check my measurements.”

 

“I found them on the internet,” said Newt, sucking on the tip of his finger. “Goddammit, I hate it when that happens. Anyway, I cross-checked them with your PPDC photo, but it’s always good to be sure. Especially now.”

 

“Newt, what, exactly, are you getting at?” Hermann asked.

 

In response, Newt pointed at the couch. Hermann frowned at him, and Newt huffed. “Would you just sit?” He put his hands on his hips. “I am trying to do a good thing, and it would help if you wouldn’t glare at me like some grumpy Roman philosopher.”

 

Hermann shook his head. “I should have known whatever you were working on would be strange when you called it a project,” he muttered, but he went to sit on the couch anyway.

 

“I resent the implication that I am strange.” Newt walked back to the doorway, presumably to claim that black suitcase that Hermann had been very carefully not-thinking about.

 

“And I resent that you called me a ‘philosopher,’ but we all have our crosses to bear.”

 

Vanessa made a strangled noise. Hermann looked over and saw that she was holding back laughter.

 

“I see now that I can look to you for no help,” said Hermann, keeping his voice dry though a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “You’re just as bad as he is.”

 

“Other people have this thing, Hermann. It’s called a sense of humor. I know that it exists somewhere in the depth of your brain because I Drifted with you, but sometimes I wonder.” Newt dragged the black suitcase into the sitting room with some effort and set it down on the floor.

 

“And I know that you are perfectly intelligent, because I Drifted with you, and yet sometimes _I_ wonder.”

 

Newt blew a raspberry at him and knelt so he could undo the latches of the suitcase. He flipped it open, keeping the case facing away so neither Vanessa nor Hermann could see what was in it. Biting his lip, he reached for what was inside, then paused. He set his hands on the top section of the case and looked up at them. “Anyway, it—it wasn’t a project. It was an apology.”

 

Hermann glanced at Vanessa, to see if she showed any signs of recognition, but Vanessa had assumed that polite, neutral expression Hermann so envied when he was talking to idiots. “An apology for what?” said Hermann at last, since it seemed no one was going to explain anything to him.

 

“For being a douche about the two of you.” Newt glanced down, drumming his fingers on the case. Hermann opened his mouth, but Newt made a face. “And don’t say I wasn’t, because you weren’t there. For most of it, anyway. I was, in fact, a douche of the most epic caliber, and maybe we can talk about why later,” here his eyes met Hermann’s, and then dropped again, “but right now… just let me pretend that I am not the biggest asshole in the world.”

 

Hermann glanced at Vanessa again and was relieved to find she looked confused now.

 

“So, anyway, the reason I couldn’t stay before is because I had to farm this project out to a couple of other people, and they are not as awesome as I am, so they did not finish it as soon as I could. And also I had to make prototypes and test them on other people, which was a pain in the ass, but now I think it works pretty well, even though it’s only Mark I.”

 

Before Hermann could chastise Newt for drawing it out, Newt took two objects out of the case. The first was a small console, similar to one used to monitor pilots from the helicopters. The second was a leg made of smooth black metal, jointed and fitted together like a Jaeger’s. At the top was a suction device much like the one on Vanessa’s prosthetic, although this one had strange metal tines sticking out of it.

 

Hermann stared at it, not quite sure what he felt. Newt’s eyes flicked between the two of them, nervously. He let Vanessa speak first, because she was slower at coming to conclusions than the two of them but also better at handling emotional moments.

 

“You built what the two of you were talking about, didn’t you?” she said. Her voice was careful, as though she were waiting to be proved wrong.

 

Newt nodded. He took a spinal connector out of the case and closed it. “I mean—I was thinking. I was a jerk, and I wanted to make up for that, and—I don’t know. You said you wanted to be a pilot, didn’t you?”

 

Vanessa blinked. “I was drunk, Newt. That’s what people say when they’re drunk.”

 

Newt raised his eyebrows. “And here I thought you were gonna be a good liar.”

 

Vanessa glanced away. Hermann put his hand on her shoulder, although he could not imagine what she was going through at the moment. He was also startled at Newt’s claim. Not because he had any trouble picturing Vanessa as a pilot, but because she had never let on anything that suggested she was interested in it. How much time had she and Newt spent together?

 

Newt hesitated, then glanced at Hermann. “Did I fuck it up again? I mean—I thought it would be good. Because I know the one you wear hurts, and—well, this will hurt, but only the first time because of reasons, and—” He let out a breath. “Shit. I was trying to be good for once.”

 

“Newt, you idiot,” said Vanessa, looking back at him. She wiped her eyes. “I’m trying to think how to _thank_ you, you fuck.”

 

To Hermann’s surprise, Newt blushed. “You can’t thank me yet,” he mumbled. “I don’t know for sure if it’ll work. I’ve only gotten to try the design on two people. Not much of a sample size.”

 

“Newt,” said Hermann, squeezing Vanessa’s shoulder. “No. You did not fuck up. You—” But he wasn’t sure what to say after that.

 

Newt cleared his throat. “Okay. Whatever. Let’s just see if the fucking thing works.” He picked up the spinal piece. “I want to be able to get rid of this in later versions, but I didn’t have time to figure out how I could integrate that into the rest of the design—maybe surgery or something. Anyway. Take your shirt off.”

 

Vanessa snorted, although her eyes were nervous. “Is he always this suave?”

 

“My dear, that is the epitome of his sexual repertoire,” said Hermann dryly.

 

“Shut up, guys! It’s science time, not talking time.”

 

Vanessa rolled her eyes, although her shoulders were tense as she pulled her blouse over her head and unsnapped the clasp of her bra.

 

“I have to put some conduction gel on your back, like you’re getting a brain scan.” Newt pressed a few buttons on the console; a holographic projection of the metal leg appeared. He glanced at it, then pulled a tube of gel out of the case and squeezed a bit on his palm. He paused before touching Vanessa’s back. “Uh. I need to be able to get to the whole of your spine.”

 

Vanessa snorted again. Hermann shook his head. “Newt. We really need to work on your pick-up lines.”

 

“Says you! Your idea of sexy is your holo-projector and a new box of chalk.” Despite his brash tone, he looked away as Vanessa unzipped her skirt and slid it down. He applied gel down the midline of her back, then picked up the spinal piece. “This will sting, a little bit. Like a tattoo needle.”

 

“I don’t have any tattoos,” said Vanessa, her eyes firmly forward. “I don’t like needles.”

 

Newt paused, looking for a different metaphor.

 

“It’s just like a bad sunburn,” Hermann supplied.

 

“Oh. All right.” Her shoulders relaxed a touch.

 

“Ready?” Newt asked. Vanessa nodded, and Newt pressed the spinal piece against her skin. Soft clicks issued from it, and Vanessa winced. “Is that all right?”

 

Vanessa moved her arms and stretched her shoulders before answering. “No, that’s fine. It’s weird. I can barely feel it at all.”

 

“It’s supposed to dampen your awareness of it. So you can wear it for a while without getting uncomfortable. I gotta calibrate some stuff. Get your clothes back on.”

 

Newt turned back to his projector and adjusted a number of dials and meters on the screen.

 

Vanessa got dressed slowly. Hermann touched her shoulder so he could murmur in her ear. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m scared out of my mind,” she whispered back, her lips barely moving. “What if it works?”

 

He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the space behind her ear, a place that made her go weak at the knees. “Then I think we should all have reason to be afraid, because you might just be able to take over the world.”

 

The smile she flashed him was so grateful and relieved that he forgot Newt’s presence for a moment in the face of its perfection.

 

Newt made a pleased noise, and Vanessa turned away so she could pull her shirt back over her head. “All good over there?” Newt asked.

 

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me with my shirt off before,” said Vanessa, straightening her collar. Hermann looked at her, surprised; Vanessa smiled thinly. “Strip poker. Dan was very fond of it.”

 

“Also, hot damn, Tendo sucks at poker, and it is the best thing ever. Just saying.” Newt turned around.

 

“He does it on purpose because he is a slut,” said Vanessa, but a pleased smile had settled onto her lips.

 

“I know, and it’s _awesome_.” He picked up the metal leg with a grunt of effort and set it in front of Vanessa. He applied more conduction gel to the base of her leg. “This is another thing I’d like to get rid of doing, but for now you have to apply this every time you want to put the leg on. I’d also like to make it lighter, but that’ll take a while. It won’t weigh you down once it’s connected.” He double-checked the tines of the leg, then looked up at Vanessa. “Uh. This part hurts like a motherfucker, but only once. And it should only last for about fifteen seconds.”

 

Vanessa raised her eyebrows at him. “Disregarding the loss of my leg in the first place, I just pushed that,” she gestured in the direction of Isaac’s room, “through an opening that is usually too small to admit my fist. I think I can handle it.”

 

Newt’s ears went pink, and he coughed, but he still said, “Well, the first lady I tried it on has three kids, and she still told me it was worse. It has to establish a proper connection with your nerves, which requires lots of stimulation, which the body interprets as pain.”

 

Vanessa shrugged. “Well, then, don’t talk about it. Just do it.”

 

Then followed a bit of fussing on Newt’s part. He carefully adjusted the clamp over Vanessa’s scars, checking and rechecking the readings on his screen. Then he walked back to the projector and hovered one finger over a button. “Ready?”

 

She just looked at him. Newt pressed the button. Vanessa let out a scream so loud that Hermann nearly fell off the couch. Newt just winced.

 

Isaac began to howl in the background. “I’ll, um. I’ll get the baby,” said Newt, getting to his feet. “You just, um, sit there for a second. I promise it’ll go away.”

 

Vanessa let her head fall back against the couch.

 

“Are you all right?” said Hermann, peering into her face.

 

“It doesn’t hurt any longer,” she said. “In fact, it is more comfortable than the prosthetic I wear. But good Lord above. If that ever happens again, I may just have to kill him in self-defense.”

 

“I know the feeling, dear.”

 

To his surprise, the baby stopped crying a moment or two after that. There was silence, then another wail. Newt came out with Isaac pressed against one shoulder. “He started yelling the minute I tried to put him down, so I figured maybe he should just sit with us for a little while.” He passed the baby to Hermann. Settled on Hermann’s lap, Isaac glared at him in a hurt way, as though he couldn’t imagine what he had done to be awakened so rudely.

 

“You were not kidding,” said Vanessa, looking at Newt.

 

Newt shrugged. “That’s one thing I won’t be able to get rid of. It’s just how it functions—it’s a lot like the connection between Jaeger and pilot, so it’s… complicated.” He scratched his head. “Anyway, feeling fine now?” She nodded. “Okay. Let’s get this son of a bitch calibrated. Then we can have all kinds of fun.”

 

Newt typed something in, which brought up a second set of options overlaying the projection of the leg. He adjusted a few things on screen, frowning, and gave the leg a spin, inspecting it from all angles. “All right. Wiggle your normal foot.” Vanessa complied. “Now the other.”

 

Vanessa opened her mouth.

 

“Don’t look down. Don’t think about it. Just—do it. Trust me, all right?” He smiled hopefully at her.

 

Vanessa let out a breath. Her expression was disgusted, but that was nerves; her fingers were digging into the couch.

 

“Vanessa. Dear. Look at me.” She obeyed, to his surprise, and he held her gaze. After a moment, there was a soft but unmistakable drumming noise on the floor.

 

Vanessa looked down, startled. “I did it. It feels. It feels just like normal.”

 

“Cool. That means I’m getting better at the set-up. Do it again, just so I can double-check the readings.” Vanessa obeyed, this time watching her foot with wide eyes. “Yeahhhh boy. Okay. Can you try standing up? But don’t move after that. Walking takes more calibration.”

 

Vanessa pushed herself up without hesitation, though her hands remained spread, as though to catch herself. She drew in a sharp breath; slowly, her hands dropped to her sides.

 

Newt didn’t even seem to notice the effect this was having on her; his gaze was focused totally on his readings. “Okay. Everything looks perfect. One step—leading with that foot. If you feel like you can. And I mean one step because—” Vanessa took a step forward while he was talking. “Oh. Yeah. Wow. You took to it really well.”

 

“You obviously have no idea how long I have wanted to walk on my own two feet again,” said Vanessa softly.

 

Newt looked up, blinking as he always did when pulled away from his science. “Well. No. I mean. I didn’t. That’s kind of why I picked this idea. Because I don’t know. But I’d like to think I can help. Maybe. I don’t know.” He huffed and dropped his head back onto the coffee table. “Feelings are hard.”

 

“Is it all set now?”

 

Newt straightened up and glanced at the screen. “One more step, just in case.” Vanessa did so, and he nodded. “Yeah, everything looks as good as it’s gonna get. It’ll only improve the more you wear it.”

 

He did not notice Vanessa had approached him until she knelt to put her arms around him from behind. Hermann could not look away from the picture they made together. He wasn’t sure if it was right to like it so much.

 

Newt blinked. “Oh. Oh. Um—”

 

“Thank you,” said Vanessa, pressing her forehead to his back. Her voice was choked with emotion. “You—you have no idea what you’ve done for me.”

 

Newt smiled, carefully. “No, but. Well. I’m glad you like it.” He cleared his throat and looked back at her. “It’s—it’s good then? I was an asshole. Like a mondo asshole.”

 

Vanessa lifted her head so she could prop her chin on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Newt. I know how it goes. Believe me. I’ll tell you about it sometime.” She squeezed, and then she got to her feet, staring at her new prosthetic as though she was waiting for it to disappear at any moment. Newt smiled up at her, and she pushed her fingers through his cockatoo crest, absently. Newt’s eyes met Hermann’s; Hermann looked back steadily.

 

She walked over to Hermann and picked up Isaac. Isaac frowned up at her as though to say she should have known better than to treat him so cruelly. “I need some time alone. To process this.” She glanced down at her metallic foot again.

 

“It’s not really like automail,” said Newt, straightening up. “You have to take it off periodically—at least, I think so. My neuroscientist bros are still looking at the ways it affects the brain, so I don’t want to make any promises in that direction. Better safe than sorry.”

 

Vanessa nodded. “I’ll come back out in a while. But this guy needs to learn to sleep in a bed. And the two of you need to talk.” Hermann’s eyes met Newt’s; he wasn’t surprised by Vanessa’s proclamation, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. “I’ll be in the baby’s room. If there is any shouting, I am coming out, and neither of you will like it. You’re both better than that.”

 

“You have a lot of faith in us,” said Newt, laughing nervously.

 

“Yes, I do,” said Vanessa, so calmly that both Newt and Hermann stared at her. “There’s a lot holding you two together, and you are both adults, so you should be able to decide whether or not it’s enough.”

 

Newt glanced between the two of them. “But—I mean—”

 

Vanessa bounced Isaac gently. “What happens between the two of you tonight is your business. We can all talk about it in the morning. For now, I’m tired. I’m not a night owl like you two.” She walked over and kissed Hermann on the forehead. Then she went into her bedroom, leaving Hermann and Newt alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa eventually pilots a Jaeger named Sunset Strut out of the San Fran dome. Isaac also grows up to be a pilot.


	23. Blackboards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Vanessa was inside the bedroom, Newt turned to Hermann. “Was—was she serious? I mean, the two of you—”
> 
> “We’re together, yes,” said Hermann. It came out calmer than he expected. Maybe because it was just good to have Newt here. To talk about all the things they had held back over the years. “It’s good. But—”
> 
> Newt got to his feet. He was biting his lip, but his eyes held hope. “But?”
> 
> “But there’s room left. If you want it, I mean.” Hermann let out a breath. “She and I have talked about it enough that I finally believe her when she says she doesn’t mind. Do—do you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter will go up soonest because it is pretty short.

Once Vanessa was inside the bedroom, Newt turned to Hermann. “Was—was she serious? I mean, the two of you—”

 

“We’re together, yes,” said Hermann. It came out calmer than he expected. Maybe because it was just good to have Newt here. To talk about all the things they had held back over the years. “It’s good. But—”

 

Newt got to his feet. He was biting his lip, but his eyes held hope. “But?”

 

“ _But_ there’s room left. If you want it, I mean.” Hermann let out a breath. “She and I have talked about it enough that I finally believe her when she says she doesn’t mind. Do—do you?”

 

Newt kept chewing on his lower lip. Hermann waited for him to say yes, that this was all too complicated and he wanted to put it behind them. Then he said, “I was wrong, before.”

 

Hermann blinked. “Before when?”

 

Newt shook his head. “Sorry. When we were talking—that night. I said that love wasn’t enough. We still fucked it up. But it wasn’t—it wasn’t us, was it?” He took a step toward Hermann and stopped, rocking back on his heels. Hermann wanted to speak, but he knew Newt was not done talking. “It was everything else.”

 

He put his hands in his pockets. “I bought it, you know. That act you put on. You talked like you didn’t respect me, like I was just shit to you. After a while, I thought I was lying to myself about how you felt about me. I mean, sure, you turned over all sweet in bed, but otherwise you treated me like shit, and I felt like shit, so I just… stopped believing, I guess. But it was never that way, was it?” He lifted his head.

 

Hermann’s lips parted. Then he said, carefully, “That’s why I apologized. I—I only got into bed with you in the first place because that’s all I thought it was. Then, when that wasn’t true—” Hermann shook his head. “I couldn’t hold my feelings and the fate of the world in my mind at the same time. I didn’t know how to tell you that things had changed, and it was never quiet enough to give me time to figure that out.” He swallowed. “It’s a terrible excuse, but—”

 

“No, I get it now.” Newt swallowed. “I thought about that a lot while I was gone. I tried to do the same thing, you know. I told myself I wasn’t tied down because you didn’t really care anyway, so I could go wherever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. I told myself I didn’t miss you. I thought it would be that way when I left. But… that wasn’t true.”

 

He cleared his throat. “I mean, it was good for me. Getting away. I forgot how much I liked building stuff, even if I had to ship some of it out to other people. And I played music again, stuff like that. I feel like maybe—maybe there’s something left after all. It was good to be alone for a little while.” He opened his mouth, closed it again, and toed the ground. “You, um. You haven’t asked me about my tattoo yet.”

 

Hermann tipped his head to the side. “What has that to do with anything?”

 

In response, Newt shrugged off his shirt and turned so Hermann could inspect his back. The tattoo wasn’t yet finished; the kaiju were only outlines and the beginnings of color. Leatherback slammed his fists on the base of Newt’s spine, and Otachi spread her wings behind him, trailing fire and smoke. Her jaw was open, revealing a tongue Hermann remembered only too well.

 

Above that were three neat pieces of writing. Hermann got to his feet to inspect them, feeling a bit weak. It was his handwriting. His equation. He could not stop himself from brushing his fingers over the lines, remembering how he had felt writing them all that time ago.

 

“Your eye cleared up,” said Newt softly, turning his head so he could meet Hermann’s eyes. “I noticed that when we Skyped. I’m still not any good at staying in one place, but I wanted something—permanent. So I know I have somewhere to come back to. If you want me, anyway.”

 

Hermann pressed his lips to the top of Newt’s spine, in the precise center of the equation. “I think I always will,” said Hermann, his voice just as soft.

 

Newt turned, quick and awkward, and tangled his hands in Hermann’s shirt. “You mean it? We’ll make it work this time?”

 

“I can’t promise that,” Hermann whispered. “I can’t promise anything. But—” He smoothed his fingers over Newt’s forearms, tracing patterns he still dreamed of. “Perhaps. If we define our terms clearly this time.”

 

“Not this crap again.” But Newt was smiling.

 

Hermann pressed his forehead to Newt’s. “I’m going to ignore that, because if you do want this to work, then you are just going to have to accept that this is how I communicate. I’d never claim it is ideal, but it’s the way I am.” He paused. “But I—I will try to be better at saying it outright, instead of letting things crowd it out.” He looked down. “I made a mistake, before. I told myself that it was only right to prioritize other things over you, and that meant everything just—went wrong. I will try to do better.”

 

“That would be good,” said Newt, sliding his hands up to Hermann’s collar. “Well. All right. I’ll try to watch what I say and not be such a little shitheel all the time.”

 

“Don’t call yourself that.”

 

“Says the guy who called me a shit in bed all the time.” Newt let out a breath. “Yeah. All right. Terms.” He swallowed, tugging on Hermann’s collar. “Well. I love you and stuff. I can’t really—settle down. It’s not good for me. But. I want this. I want you.”

 

“I want you, too.”

 

“What did I say last time, dude? I talked about my feelings. Now it is your turn. I want schmoop, man. Just once. I know it’s there. I’ve been in your head.” He poked Hermann in the chest.

 

Hermann sighed in a way that he hoped made it obvious that it was not really a problem. He caught Newt’s hand so he could kiss Newt’s fingertips, then the back of his palm, and then the top of his wrist, just below Yamarashi’s gaping mouth. Newt watched him, wide-eyed. “Yes. All right.” He kept his lips on Newt’s skin while he thought. Then, finally, “I love you, Newt. And as much as I don’t want you ever banging around my lab again, I also want you here, where I know you’re safe. Where I can at least pretend I can take care of you. I’m not good at it. But I’d like to try again, if you’ll let me.”

 

Newt stared at him for a moment. Then he yanked on Hermann’s collar. His purpose was clear; Hermann leaned down to kiss him just as Newt rocked up on his toes. Kissing Newt again felt like fitting a key into the lock on the first try, like opening a new box of chalk and covering the blackboard without needing to erase. Like falling asleep to talk of kaiju guts and manga.

 

Hermann was not sure how long they stood there, just kissing, just getting to know how they fit against each other now, but it was long enough that he felt slightly dazed when Newt broke the kiss with a curse.

 

“What?” said Hermann. He had to blink a few times; for a moment, they could have been back in the Shatterdome. It was better here, in this house. He didn’t feel like the walls were pressing down on him the way they always did at the ‘dome.

 

“I forgot something, out front. It was supposed to be a surprise, so I left it out there. I meant to go get it after giving Vanessa her present, but—well.” He hooked his fingers in Hermann’s belt loops. “You should. Um. Go talk to Vanessa for a minute. Shut the door so I can bring it in.”

 

Hermann tipped his head to the side. “Why—”

 

“Because it’s a surprise, you big jerk, and you don’t get to see it until I put it where it goes. Your office is the room at the end of the hall, right?” Hermann looked at him blankly, and Newt shrugged. “Whenever I’m in Germany, I have dreams about this place. Maybe ‘cause you’re awake when I’m jet-lagged. But I know the whole layout already, so that’s convenient.” He kissed Hermann again, then shoved him away, gently. “For serious. No peeking. You’ll like it, I promise.”

 

“If you bring any kaiju pieces or kaiju-themed materials into this house—”

 

Newt huffed. “Have a little faith in me, okay? I promise you’ll like it. And I had to kiss a lot of asses to get this here.”

 

Hermann shook his head, although inside he was dying of curiosity. Newt was terrible at keeping secrets, but apparently staring at him was not going to do the trick this time. “All right. I should say good night to her anyway.”

 

“Yep.” Newt rocked back on his heels. He didn’t move from the living room until Hermann walked down the hallway, and Hermann only heard the front door open as he was closing the bedroom door behind him.

 

Vanessa was pacing, but not a bad way; she stopped, abruptly, and turned to look at him, placing her hands behind her back. On her face was a pleasant, calm smile—not the one that so nettled him, that hid her feelings when he most wanted to know them, but one that came from a rested spirit.

 

"You're feeling--well, then?" said Hermann, unsure how else to broach the subject.

 

Vanessa looked down at her new prosthetic, flexing the toes of both feet. "I'm not even sure if that's the word," she said softly. "It's going to take some time, I think. I was used to myself the other way. Now I have to get used to this. But I feel good, really." She tipped her head to the side. “So?”

 

Hermann hesitated. Despite his words to Newt, he was still nervous about this part of the conversation. “I think—perhaps—we’ve worked it out. We, ah. We kissed.”

 

“I can tell,” she said, and here her lips curved in a slight smirk that made Hermann feel like burying his face in one of Isaac’s stuffed animals so she wouldn’t see him blush. “Well. That’s good.” She walked over and placed her hand on his cheek. “I’m going to trade nights with you, but only because I do not want you making out in the same room as my child.”

 

Hermann put his hand on her waist, although his expression was appalled. “As though I would do such a thing. I’ve missed him, certainly, but not enough to abandon propriety.” He paused. “Besides. Technically, I’ve done much worse than kissing with Isaac in the room.”

 

Vanessa cackled at that. She put her hand on his chest. “And will continue to do such terrible things, I hope?” She raised her eyebrows at him again.

 

“Well. As long as you’ll let me.” He leaned forward, hesitantly, and felt relieved when she put her arms around his neck and kissed him as though they’d talked of nothing more serious than what to have for dinner. Perhaps this would work out after all.

 

The front door opened, and Hermann heard Newt go cussing by the door.

 

“What’s he doing?” said Vanessa, her arms still around his neck.

 

“Haven’t the faintest. I know by now that it is best to indulge him. He’ll explain himself soon enough.”

 

“Mmm,” said Vanessa, and kissed him again.

 

After a few minutes of that, a knock came at their door. “Okay, it’s ready!” Hermann could tell simply by Newt’s tone that he would be bouncing from foot to foot with excitement. A smile tugged at his lips. How long since he’d heard that tone directed at him? Too long.

 

Vanessa patted his cheek. “Have fun,” she said, putting a lewd emphasis on _fun_.

 

“I can see now why you apparently spent so much time with Newt on base. I must have met dirtier-minded people in my life, but they escape me.” Vanessa waved him away, walking over to the window. Hermann let out a breath and went out to meet Newt.

 

Newt _was_ , in fact, bouncing from foot to foot. He walked backwards down the hallway, grinning in the way that meant he was about to spill whatever secret he had in mind. But, for once, Newt kept his mouth shut until they reached the door of Hermann’s office. “Okay, okay, here we go.” He opened the door and gestured for Hermann to go in first.

 

Hermann saw why it had taken Newt so long: Newt had moved Hermann’s desk to the corner to free up the far wall. Such a gesture might have irritated Hermann, except for the object that now stood there: Hermann’s blackboard from the Shatterdome, still covered in his final notes. Hermann walked over to it and touched the slate, although he had spent so much time staring at it in his life that he knew it was his own. There was the slight crack in the chalk ledge where he’d tripped and caught himself. There was the smear of faded kaiju blue from before Hermann had instituted the line.

 

He looked back to Newt, his throat working. “Newt, how on earth did you get this?”

 

“I told you, I kissed a lot of asses,” said Newt, rocking back on his heels. He looked pleased with himself, but for once Hermann did not feel like scolding him for it. He was still too weak at the knees for that. “Aaaand I might have just covered it in a sheet and passed it off as part of my stuff when I moved my crap to Hannibal’s place. He’s taking care of my kaiju bits for me while I’m here so nobody steals ‘em.” He paused. “I mean, Hannibal might steal them, but I don’t think so. He’s pretty good about keeping his word, as long as you pay him to do it.”

 

Hermann ignored that last, smoothing his hand again over the slate. “This is the only part I would miss,” he said softly. 

 

Newt tipped his head to the side, still smiling. “I know, dude. I was in your head.” He grinned. “And even if I wasn’t, I’d still know you have a pathological attachment to that thing. It’s your baby.”

 

Hermann turned away from the blackboard. “Come here, Newt.” Newt did not run across the room, exactly, but it was close. Hermann tipped up Newt’s chin, tried to think of something to say, and settled for kissing Newt again with a thoroughness that left Newt clinging to his belt.

 

“Godddd,” said Newt against his mouth. “You are still the best fucking kisser in the world. You wrecked me for other people, you prick.”

 

Hermann shrugged. “I don’t do things halfway.” He hesitated, then slid his hand down into the back pocket of Newt’s jeans. Newt hummed with pleasure, so Hermann felt encouraged to continue. “You know, you asked me for something, years ago.”

 

Newt blinked. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, dude. You ignore ninety percent of the stuff I say.”

 

In response, Hermann looked back at the blackboard, then met Newt’s eyes and raised his eyebrows.

 

Newt glanced at the blackboard. Then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh. Uh—” He swallowed and licked his lips, glancing at Hermann’s mouth. “You. Uh. You have a long memory.”

 

“It’s necessary in our profession, darling. So…” It was more than a question about sex.

 

Newt swallowed again. “Well, I mean—” He cleared his throat. “Fuck. I can’t think straight when you’re looking at me like that.” He dug his fingers into Hermann’s shoulder in the most enjoyable way. “Uh. Go big or go home, I guess? I mean. It’s not like we don’t have all the fucking time we need to figure this out, yeah?”

 

“I’m glad you think so.” Hermann leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of Newt’s faded salamander tattoo, then dragged his teeth down, just as he had all those years ago sitting on a bench in a park that no longer existed.

 

Newt let out a little whine of need and pulled Hermann’s face back to his for a deep, breathless kiss. Hermann put his hand on Newt’s chest and maneuvered him back to the blackboard, pressing him flat against the surface. He nudged at the bottom of Newt’s shirt; that was all the prompting Newt needed to wiggle his way out of it and throw it aside. Hermann traced his fingers down Onibaba’s figure. He remembered when this one was vivid and bright; now it was faded and needed touching-up.

 

So long. So much time they had wasted.

 

He kissed Newt again, hooking his fingers underneath Newt’s belt. Newt reached for Hermann’s, but Hermann nudged his hand away. “Not just yet,” he murmured, moving from Newt’s mouth to his cheek. “I can’t quite fulfill that request. Not today, anyway. But at least I can give you something.”

 

He pushed Newt back again, pressing one hand lightly to the base of Newt’s throat to hold him there. Newt stayed still as Hermann worked off Newt’s belt with the other hand and pulled down his fly, but Newt twitched and whined again when Hermann rubbed his palm against Newt’s erection. He arched one eyebrow at Newt.

 

Newt blushed and glared at him. “Hey! Some of us have not been getting laid, okay?”

 

Hermann tipped his head to the side. “Really? But you spent all that time at Hannibal Chau’s place.”

 

Newt went even redder. “That was adrenaline! I would never—”

 

“Don’t lie, darling,” said Hermann, pulling down Newt’s jeans. “I remember these things.”

 

Newt tipped his head back. “You are such a dick."

 

“I know. I hope to make up for that, eventually.” He traced his teeth over Newt’s pharynx, running his fingers over Newt’s perineum.

 

Newt let out a noise low in his throat as Hermann cupped him and began to stroke. Newt’s breath grew hot and fast against Hermann’s ear; his hands tightened on the ledge of the blackboard. He arched up against Hermann’s hand, but then he pulled on Hermann’s collar again, muttering, “Hang on, hang on—”

 

“What?”

 

“Take off some of your fucking clothes, okay? I want to see you. It’s been so long.” He pulled Hermann’s shirt out of his pants without waiting for an answer. Hermann pulled his sweater over his head as Newt began unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom up. As always when they did it this way, Newt got distracted about halfway to Hermann’s throat and began running his hands up over Hermann’s skin. Hermann bit back a groan and finished undoing his buttons so he could set his shirt aside.

 

Newt slid his arms around Hermann’s back and kissed him, dragging his teeth over Hermann’s lower lip. He moved sideways and down, running his tongue over Hermann’s jawline. Hermann let out a little _hsst_ ; he’d forgotten how much he liked that. “I think I want to blow you,” Newt murmured. “It’s been too long.”

 

“That would be—” Newt bit, just under Hermann’s jaw. Hermann took in a breath. “That would be good. But you first.”

 

“Mmm. Yeah. Okay.” Newt let Hermann push him back against the blackboard and resume his work. Newt dragged his nails down Hermann’s back as Hermann fell back into the rhythm he remembered. Newt groaned against his neck. Hermann took a handkerchief from his back pocket to catch the mess and increased his speed. Newt slid his hands under Hermann’s belt and dug his fingers into Hermann’s lower back as he came, gasping softly.

 

“There,” said Hermann softly, kissing the base of Newt’s jaw, the top of his cheekbone. He tossed the soiled handkerchief aside so he could rest both hands on Newt’s hips. “There now.”

 

Newt let out a slow breath and lifted his head from Hermann’s shoulder, grinning lazily. “Your turn, babe.” They kissed, slowly, and Hermann let Newt maneuver him back against the board. He tipped his head back as Newt kissed and bit his way down Hermann’s chest. As Newt worked on Hermann’s belt and fly, Hermann pushed his fingers through Newt’s hair, relishing the texture.

 

“Ah, there we go,” said Newt, sliding Hermann’s cock free. “God, where do you get all these fucking layers anyway?” Hermann refused to dignify that with an answer, partly because it was a question Newt asked all the time and partly because Newt was running his tongue down Hermann’s cock.

 

Hermann dug his fingers into Newt’s scalp as Newt started a lazy rhythm with a mixture of hand and mouth. “I forgot,” said Hermann, tipping his head back to rest against the blackboard. The ledge was the perfect height to hold his weight without straining his leg.

 

“What did you forget?” said Newt idly, nipping at the inside of Hermann’s thigh.

 

“I forgot,” said Hermann, looking down at him with a sideways smile, “that a mouthful of cock is the only reliable way to shut you up.”

 

“You are such a dick!” Newt shouted, half-exasperated and half-laughing. Then he caught himself and blushed. “Crap.”

 

“Don’t worry. Isaac’s slept through worse.”

 

Newt raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying that because it’s true, or just because you want me to keep going?”

 

Hermann raised his eyebrows back. “As though I would lie for the sake of your blow jobs.”

 

Newt smirked and traced his fingers up and down Hermann’s length. “I dunno, man, you made up some pretty good shit for people when they asked why we were in the lab at four in the morning.”

 

Hermann snorted. “I wasn’t lying, Newt. I was— _elaborating_.”

 

“Sure, sure, dude. Gotcha.” Newt chuckled and put his mouth back on Hermann, working faster this time. He scraped his nails over Hermann’s hipbones. Hermann put his hands on Newt’s shoulders so he could lean forward a bit, allowing Newt better access.

 

“Come up here, come up here,” said Hermann when he felt himself get closer. Newt obliged, pushing Hermann back into the blackboard with his kiss as he continued his work with his hands. Hermann came with a shudder, biting Newt’s shoulder.

 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, I forgot you like to do that,” said Newt. Hermann might have apologized before, but now he knew that Newt enjoyed it.

 

They stood there for a moment as Hermann recovered himself. It was almost like the Drift again, only it was not weighed down by so many secrets. They really did know each other now. That was good.

 

“Come to bed?” Hermann murmured into Newt’s shoulder.

 

“Yes please,” said Newt.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they were finished eating and the dishes were soaking in the sink, Newt actually came away from the counter and sat down at the table like a human being. Hermann thought about commenting on this and decided it was better not to antagonize him at this present moment. Hopefully there would be many more mornings to antagonize him.
> 
> “So,” said Vanessa, when Newt was settled. “The baby is asleep, which is good, because it means that we can all have a calm, rational discussion, because anyone who wakes him up gets stuck with him the rest of the day. Are we clear?”

Hermann woke to the smell of cooking bacon, which was odd for a pair of reasons. First, he did not remember ever buying bacon for this house—he loved it, but the smell of it currently turned Vanessa’s stomach—and second, he had learned that Vanessa could not cook anything more complicated than spaghetti from a box. Which meant Newt had to be doing it.

 

He finger-combed his hair into place and got out of bed. He felt… well, which was good.

 

In the kitchen, Newt was standing at the stove, cracking eggs into a skillet. Hermann did not remember buying that either, but purchasing furnishings for this house had been something of a game for him. A way to remind himself that he wanted to live past the end of the world. Vanessa was seated at the table, feeding Isaac. She turned sharp eyes on him. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

 

Hermann looked at her blankly. “I don’t remember us discussing that,” he replied, going to sit beside her. He set a hand on her knee. “Am I ever going to know the full context of the questions you ask me?”

 

She laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Newt was telling me you could.”

 

Hermann turned an accusing glare on Newt, but Newt just shrugged, whisking the eggs. “I’ve told you it’s a crime, man, you only singing when you’re drunk as hell. I figure maybe if I can get her on my side, the world will be a better place.”

 

Hermann let out a breath. “I’ve told you, I can only do it when I’m drunk.” He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t we have more important things to be talking about?”

 

Vanessa cursed. Both men looked at her. “Sorry, sorry, not about you.” She pulled Isaac away and set him on her lap so she could adjust herself. She cleared her throat. “We should eat breakfast first. Trust me when I say these kinds of discussions are happier on a full stomach.”

 

“Also, eggs are done, and we should eat them before they get gross.”

 

Hermann had to agree that it was difficult to argue with that logic.

 

***

 

When they were finished eating and the dishes were soaking in the sink, Newt actually came away from the counter and sat down at the table like a human being. Hermann thought about commenting on this and decided it was better not to antagonize him at this present moment. Hopefully there would be many more mornings to antagonize him.

 

“So,” said Vanessa, when Newt was settled. “The baby is asleep, which is good, because it means that we can all have a calm, rational discussion, because anyone who wakes him up gets stuck with him the rest of the day. Are we clear?”

 

Hermann and Newt nodded.

 

“I’ll go first, if that’s all right with the two of you. After all, I missed your little pow-wow last night.” She resettled Isaac against her shoulder. “So. To clarify. Before Trespasser, I was in a polyamorous relationship, and it was—it was good. Which means that I am fine with whatever the two of you get up to, as long as I get to have some of it, too. This is a good place. I like it.” She pursed her lips. “No, that’s pretty much it. Newt?”

 

Newt blinked. “Why do I have to go next?”

 

“Because Hermann and I have talked this to death, and you were nervous about it last night, and also because I still have blackmail over you, so I like asserting my power.”

 

He stuck his tongue out at her; Vanessa stuck her tongue out back, which made Hermann cough up his coffee. “Fine, okay!”

 

“Will wonders never cease,” Hermann murmured. “You having to be prompted to talk.”

 

“Shut up, you. I’m trying to think.” Newt crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay. Yeah. Uh. This is cool with me, if it’s cool with you two. I mean—I’m not this kind of guy.” He gestured vaguely at Vanessa and Hermann and the baby. “I tried it. It doesn’t work. But. I wanna come back here. If I can. So you guys can just kind of do your thing, and then maybe I’ll be here sometimes? A lot of the time? As much as I can?”

 

Vanessa nodded, and Hermann nodded, and Newt let out an overly dramatic sigh. “Okay, awesome, awesome.” He paused. “Also, I kind of really suck at communication, but so does he, and you don’t, so I think maybe that will balance out.”

 

Vanessa smiled like a cat with feathers on her lips. “Oh, believe me. It will. I’ve gotten stupider people to work together. I should hope that two men with as many doctorates as the two of you would be able to work something out.” Her tone dared them to disagree with her.

 

Newt tipped his chair back. “I think. I think that’s it. I think. I’ll probably come up with shit later.” He paused. “Am I allowed to swear in front of the baby? His brain’s not developed enough to recognize it yet anyway.”

 

Vanessa shrugged. “As long as you let him sleep, I don’t care if you read him _Go the Fuck to Sleep_ every night.” She looked to Hermann and raised her eyebrows.

 

Hermann looked at the table, trying to think what to say. He was too aware that he wasn’t good at it, that everything he ever said to the people he cared about only seemed to muddy the waters, never clarify them. He was also too aware that he used words as a way to stop himself from doing things, and there was really only one thing to be done.

 

After a moment, he put his hands on the table, one for Newt and one for Vanessa. Vanessa took his first; Newt a moment later.

 

“Yes?” said Hermann, squeezing each of their hands in turn.

 

“Yes,” said Newt and Vanessa at the same time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around.


End file.
